


Where Your Loyalties Lie

by Suzann89x



Series: Where Your Loyalties Lie [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 46,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzann89x/pseuds/Suzann89x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts.  The only Gryffindor glad for Snape finally being given the post he had been wanting for years, she is at odds with her friends as she finds herself making a new friend in Professor Snape, who is facing unwanted recognition as well as having to maintain his status as a double-agent for Dumbledore and The Dark Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. News of a Celebratory Gathering

_'_ _For Merlin’s sake, Severus, you damned fool’_ Snape mentally admonished himself ‘ _You’ve been pursuing this for sixteen years.  And what have you done to prepare? Nothing.’_ Of course, it wasn’t the lesson plans for the subject he would be now be teaching instead of Potions that he hadn’t thought of, but the reactions from the staff and students, which he hadn’t even considered in the slightest until a mere twenty minutes prior to falling into his leather wingback chair after a brown-mottled owl had tapped its dark beak on the dingy glass of the window at Snape’s dilapidated home at Spinner’s End.  The toasted almond parchment was crumpled in Snape’s hand; he sighed heavily and flattened it the best he could to reread the message for the fourteenth time:

 

_Severus –_

_After hearing of your new post as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, the staff has concluded that a celebratory gathering is in order, as to provide the opportunity for all to give their congratulations – and, of course, for you to enjoy and revel in the success which you have long sought. I know you are not fond of surprises, so I am informing you now, therefore you will have no excuse to brood._

_Minerva sends her regards._

_– Albus_

 

 

 _“Damn that meddling man!”_ Severus thought angrily. He summoned a tumbler of firewhiskey and took several sips of it; he might as well go ahead and start with his brooding now. He didn't understand why his life had to be this complicated; not only had Narcissa and Bellatrix showed up at his home a mere week ago, resulting in him making a damned Unbreakable Vow to assist the blonde woman's son - and if Draco failed, to kill the headmaster himself - but now the old man had gotten into his head that Snape would want a party in recognition of his new position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! Albus had been right about one thing, though; by sending that letter, he had removed all reason for Snape to complain, and he would have to feign enjoyment… Or would he? Snape smirked, recognizing that the Headmaster had not insisted that he pretended to take pleasure in the gathering, only that he not brood.

After draining the amber liquid from his glass, Snape stood and moved to sit at his desk. He took a fresh piece of parchment and quickly scrawled a reply:

 

_Albus –_

_I suppose any objection would be pointless. If I am required to attend this celebration, at least have the decency to be certain that there are enough guests so that I will have at least a bit of a reprieve while they are conversing amongst themselves, rather than constantly forcing me into participation of pointless small talk._

_– Severus_

 

 

As Butterscotch had flown out the window as soon as Snape had taken the letter from him, Snape tied the letter to his Eurasian eagle owl, saying, "Peck at him a little bit, will you?"

Smoke at blinked at his owner and lightly nibbled his finger before Snape shooed him out the window, smirking as he shook his head; he had never been very fond of any animal, and had only received Smoke from Albus the year prior, but he had to admit that he had begun to grow rather fond of the bird, who would often perch on his desk and watch him work, hooting indignantly when Snape hadn't given him a treat for a while.

 

Grumbling at the thought of the impending gathering in his “honor”, Snape stood, taking Axiological Alchemy Artisan and returning to his chair, opening the thick tome to the page he had last read and resumed his study.  He had nearly finished the book before retreating to his bedroom. Snape glanced out the small window, seeing only dark, owl-less skies; he hadn’t really expected Smoke to return with a reply from the headmaster so soon, but he was anxious to learn how Dumbledore would respond to his insistence that more people were invited to the ridiculous celebration.  After shedding his cloak and clothing he had donned that day, Snape settled into his bed, tossing for several minutes in an attempt to find a halfway comfortable position on the lumpy, worn mattress.  Pulling the thin throw over his body, he was glad that the weather was pleasant enough to allow him to leave the window open in case Smoke returned in the night.

 

* * *

 

Something tugged on Snape’s black hair; he swatted at it, too asleep to bother wondering what it was.  The source of the tug dodged his arm and began towing a corner of the throw on Snape over his head. Snape batted the blanket away, his hand forcefully whacking a feathered something.  Smoke ruffled his wings and glared at Snape, then sharply nipped his ear. Smoke hopped away from the slap that Snape aimed at him as the man sat up swiftly, roaring, “YOU DAMNED BIRD, YOU NEARLY TORE MY EAR OFF!”

Smoke gave a cross hoot, as if to scold Snape, whose eyes caught sight of the letter tied to the owl’s leg, “Albus?”

Quickly, Smoke turned his back to the wizard, clutching tightly to the scroll with his talons.

Tossing away the blanket, Snape approached the owl, who had taken sanctuary atop the old armoire in the corner.  He crossed his arms, “Give that to me.”

Smoke looked over his feathered shoulder at Snape and gave a defiant click of his beak.

“Now,” Snape demanded, “Or no more treats for you.”

Immediately, Smoke flew down to sit on the bedpost and offered Snape the letter.

Untying it, Snape shook his head, “I don’t know why you’re so offended; you’re the one who bit me.” 

It struck the wizard as peculiar that he was talking to the bird as though it could understand him, and more so that Smoke seemed to look ashamed. He read the letter swiftly.

 

_Severus –_

_I had intended the celebration to be staff-only, however, after discussing your concerns with Minerva, we’ve decided to extend an invitation to the students who received an O.W.L. in Potions last year.  Surely you won’t object, as there really is no other acceptable option for more guests than members of The Order; would you prefer I invite them?_

–            _Albus_

 

Snape rubbed his temple, flipped over the parchment, and scrawled his reply.

_No._

He tied the letter back onto Smoke’s leg, “I don’t expect a reply, so just come straight back.”

Snape stood at the window for a moment after Smoke had flown out of sight.

 

 

* * *

 

“We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn,” Dumbledore announced at the Welcoming Feast the first evening of the school year, “He has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

“Potions?” Harry stared wide-eyed at Hermione and Ron, who both echoed, “Potions?”

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” Dumbledore resumed, speaking more loudly, “will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“No!” said Harry loudly. 

Many students turned to look at him, alerted by his shout of protest.

Hermione tightened her mouth slightly before leaning slightly over the table toward her friend, “For goodness sakes, Harry, there’s no need to shout.”

“But he can’t teach – ” Harry started.

“He can,” Hermione scolded Harry, “Dumbledore decided it, and he’s the Headmaster.” She paused before taking on a different tone, “Besides, Snape’s been after the job forever; perhaps he’ll be less surly now that something’s gone his way.  I think you two should be a bit more realistic.”

Ron spoke in a heated hiss, “So, what?  We should be happy about it?”

Crossing her arms, Hermione sighed, “You don’t have to be _happy_ for him, Ronald, but I, for one, am glad that he’s finally gotten something he’s wanted for a long time.”

Ron and Harry exchanged a look; Harry spoke in a hushed tone, “She’s mental.” 

“I heard that,” Hermione looked at the pair.

“Good,” Ron snapped.

The three ate in silence, the boys casting frequent looks of perplextion at Hermione, who would, in turn, glance in disbelief at them.

 

* * *

 

After supper and Dumbledore’s dismissal of the students, the hall quickly emptied, Harry, Ron, and Hermione leisurely standing, the food making each of them content and drowsy. They made their way out of the Great Hall, and into the entry hall, which only a few students remained in, while several teachers stood sentry.

Ron nudged Harry, and gestured to the wall where Snape stood, then glanced at Hermione. Harry gave a sly smirk and nodded, then poked Hermione in the side, “Hey, if you’re so happy for Snape, why don’t you go tell him?” He motioned to the professor and gave Hermione a challenging look.

Hermione’s eyes widened briefly before she steeled her expression, “Fine.  I will.” She looked defiantly at them for a moment before turning and walking away, leaving the boys staring after her, open-mouthed.

 

Snape grumbled to himself, irritated as usual by the immaturity and disappointing nature of the students he was charged with as Hermione cautiously approached him from behind. She hesitantly tapped very lightly on the back of his shoulder.  The man slowly turned around and looked down at his student, “Yes, Miss Granger? Is there something you need?”

Hermione wilted slightly under his gaze, wringing her hands nervously; she hadn’t thought this through. She turned to glance quickly at her two friends, who were watching her with taunting faces. Squaring her shoulders, Hermione returned Snape’s gaze, “I – I just wanted to congratulate you, sir, for your new position.”

The tall wizard’s eyes flitted past the girl, seeing Potter and Weasley; he looked back at Hermione, “Dishonesty and flattery will get you no where, Miss Granger, and nor will mockery.”

Chewing her lip briefly, Hermione met his eyes, “No, sir, I’m not doing that.  I’m being honest; I’m happy for you, Professor, sincerely.”

Snape took a few seconds to peek into her thoughts, and was taken aback that she wasn’t lying; he retreated from her mind and cleared his throat, “I’m curious, Miss Granger, would I be correct in recalling that you received an ‘O’ in your Potions O.W.L.?”

“Yes sir, I got an ‘O’ in everything, save Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione replied, “and Divination, of course.”

“Don’t boast, Miss Granger,” Snape said.

“I – I wasn’t meaning to,” Hermione stuttered, “Sir, um, why did you ask?”

“Curiosity. Now, shouldn’t you be in your dormitory?”

Shuffling her feet, the girl replied, “I know.  I just wanted to congratulate you, sir.  Goodnight.” She turned and walked back toward Harry and Ron, who were watching her exchange with the teacher, bemused.

“Miss Granger,” Snape spoke as Hermione headed away from him, “I believe your dormitory is the other direction.”

Sighing in resignation, Hermione turned around to make her way to Gryffindor tower.


	2. A Celebratory Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out there will be some unexpected guests invited to the party for Snape's new position.

_Severus –_

_The celebration for your achievement is scheduled for Saturday, 17 October._

 

_ O.W.L. Recipients  _

_Boot, Terry_

_Corner, Michael_

_Granger, Hermione_

_Malfoy, Draco_

_Nott, Theodore_

_Zabini, Blaise_

_Invitations to the preceding students will be delivered.  As you requested a larger number of attendees, each student is encouraged to bring a guest._

_– Albus_

 

 

Snape’s eyes scanned the scroll, which had been waiting for him on his mantle in his living quarters.  He tried not to think about how it had gotten into his private lodgings – the thought of someone in his rooms was unsettling to say the least.  The new invitees would add twelve people, assuming they each came and brought someone; Snape was glad that this would make more potential conversation participants than himself, which would possibly – hopefully – draw some of the attention away from himself.  Attempting to gain a bit of foresight as to what would come, Snape idly wondered who would accompany each of the invited students. _‘Boot,’ he thought, ‘Isn’t he in Ravenclaw?  Hell if I know **what** he’ll show up with. I suppose Malfoy will bring that spoiled Parkinson girl.’  _ He was glad to see that Potter wasn’t on the list, but that relief was fleeting, for he suddenly realized Hermione Granger might invite him.  _Damn it._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Git,” Harry said as he, Ron, and Hermione left Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Ron made a face, “I still can’t believe _he’s_ teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts!  I mean, I think Dumbledore’s lost it, putting him in that position. Seriously, the man’s off the deep end.”

“Stop it, the both of you,” Hermione scolded, “We all know he’s the most qualified teacher we’ve had!  None of us learned anything from any of the other Defense teachers, save Lupin.”

“Hermione,” Harry retorted, “the only reason he’s so _qualified_ is because he practices the Dark Arts.”  He spoke in a slightly hushed tone, “He _is_ a Death Eater, after all.”

The girl frowned at her friend, “ ** _was._** ”

Ron shook his head in a demeaning way, “He still is. He’s still got the Dark Mark, hannit he?”

Not expecting that comment, Hermione fumbled for words for a moment before shrugging, “I wouldn’t know.  I haven’t seen it. And neither have either of you.”

Frowning, Harry sighed, “Come on, Hermione; you’re smarter than that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said with finality as they entered the Great Hall for supper.  They had only just sat and begun to eat when six owls flew in through the windows, circled dreamily a few times, then dropped down to deliver small scrolls. An owl from the school fluttered gracefully to land on the small space of table between Hermione and Harry, and blinked at the girl.  Hermione slowly took the letter that was attached to the bird’s leg, curious as to what it could be.

“Mail? At dinner?” Harry asked, “That’s not normal, is it?”

Ron shook his head and they both watched as Hermione read the correspondence.

After having read it three times, Hermione opened her mouth in disbelief.

“Well, go on, then,” Ron said, “Tell us what it is.  Or are you planning to keep it a secret?”

Giving her red-haired friend a swift glare, Hermione sighed, “It’s – it’s…an invitation.”

“To what?” the boys asked simultaneously.

“A party.”

Harry stared at his friend, a dramatic look of boredom on his face, “Thanks; that clears it up.”

Ron sniggere

“It’s a party to…celebrate, ah – Profsnapesnewteachnjob,” Hermione muttered the last bit, knowing what their reactions would be.

Too quickly for her to deflect him, Harry snatched the letter out of Hermione’s hand with a victorious, “Ha!”

His triumphant expression faded quickly as he read the scroll; he looked at Hermione, “I don’t understand…”

“What?” Ron said demandingly.

Harry cleared his throat dramatically and read the parchment,

 

_‘Miss Hermione Granger –_

_You are formally invited to_

_a celebration in recognition of_

_Prof. Severus Snape’s appointment to_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_Your attendance will be appreciated._

_The celebration will take place at_

_7 pm on 17 October_

_in The Room of Requirement._

_Feel free to bring a guest.’_

 

Ron gaped at Hermione as Harry asked, “You’re not gonna go, are you?”

“It’d be quite rude not to,” she shrugged, “Would either of you like to come with me?”

Harry and Ron each gave a derisive sigh; Ron shook his head, “Not bloody likely.”

 

_________________________

 

“Gandalf’s grey beard, Albus!” Snape said to the headmaster as he was dragged begrudgingly into the Room of Requirement fifteen minutes before the dreaded celebration, “As though the idea of this gathering wasn’t ridiculous enough, you had to do _this?_ ”

Dumbledore frowned at Snape, “No brooding during this, if you recall.”

Removing himself from the headmaster’s grasp, Snape grumbled, “I still have thirteen minutes, then.”

McGonagall chuckled quietly from beside a table.  Narrowing his eyes, Snape approached her and stood at the witch’s side, idly wondering why she was wearing dress robes and no hat, “You couldn’t have put a stop to this?”  He gestured unenthusiastically at the decorations surrounding them.

“I couldn’t prevent Albus from doing something if I wanted to, Severus,” McGonagall nearly giggled, “Besides, who said it wasn’t me? I am, after all, very fond of streamers.” the woman smiled mischievously.

“And the glitter? That was your brilliant idea, as well?”

“Oh, no,” she shook her head, “The glitter is Dumbledore’s doing,” McGonagall nudged him with her shoulder, “Now, cheer up.”

Snape cast an unhappy glance at the headmaster, and noticed for the first time that he, too, was wearing dress robes.  _Damn. A casual gathering was bad enough.  A formal party is a thing of nightmares._  

Deciding that it would make the celebration at least minutely tolerable, Snape poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and sat on the small couch in a corner to nurse his drink, considering the consequences of hexing Dumbledore and fleeing from the room. 

“Ah, Pomona!” Snape heard Dumbledore greet the Herbology teacher, “Come in.”

_Really? I doubt she expected to be left outside._

Professor Sprout approached Snape, who stood reluctantly.

“Congratulations, Severus!” the plump woman beamed at him; Snape nodded, but remained silent.

 

After Professor Sprout’s arrival, the various staff members joined, in pairs that were clearly more than workplace-related – Snape sighed with irritation. They came in rather quickly, each giving a barely believable word of praise to their colleague. Snape remained near the couch, wanting to be no more involved than necessary.   He frequently refilled his glass with conjured firewhiskey, determined to remain on the sofa.

“Hello, Mister Malfoy, Miss Parkinson,” Snape heard McGonagall say from somewhere in the room.  Neither student came to say anything to their dark-haired teacher.

Over the next ten minutes, Snape heard Dumbledore and McGonagall greet various students who had accepted the invitation to the party.

Dumbledore clapped his hands once, “Music!”  Snape groaned as an upbeat tune began to play from an unknown source.

“You don’t like music?” Hermione asked; Snape hadn’t even realized she was standing near the couch he was occupying, “Everyone likes music.”

Glowering up at her, Snape just tightened his mouth in response.

Frowning slightly, Hermione asked, “Can I sit, sir?”

Starting to refuse, Snape opened his mouth to give a biting retort, but noticed that Dumbledore was watching and listening; Snape refrained from saying anything and shifted slightly, gesturing to the space beside him.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“Or did you mean that I get up and relinquish my spot?”

Flushing, Hermione stammered, “N – No…I just, well, I didn’t expect you to let me.”

The professor spoke in a bored tone, “I imagine your feet need a rest, being in those heels.”

Hermione was shocked that he had noticed her footwear, but she sighed and fell onto the sofa next to him.

Snape looked sideways at her as she settled into the cushion; he was very uncomfortable with the closeness of her body to his.

She took off one of her high heels and rubbed the bottom of her foot. After setting the silver shoe against the front of the couch, Hermione sighed, stretching her ankle as she commented, “You don’t seem to be enjoying this party.”

“Damn,” Snape replied in mock disappointment, “I thought I was more skilled in deception.”

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head, “I can’t see you as a man that enjoys parties.”

Snape’s mind faltered at the realization that she saw him as any kind of man, not just a genderless professor.  He recovered quickly and smirked, “I’m not a man that enjoys parties, much less ones that I was unaware were formal.”

He scanned the girl with his eyes; she wore a soft blue dress that fell just above her knees, silver earrings and a simple matching necklace, the charm dangling just below her collarbone.  Snape internally admonished himself for thinking she looked quite nice.

Although he had thought his quick survey had been unperceivable, Hermione gave him an odd sort of look; Snape cleared his throat.

 

“Hagrid, I think you’ve had quite enough!” Olympe Maxime said, scolding the half-giant, who was clearly unsteady and tipsy as he stumbled around near the sofa, pulling her with him.

“I jus’ want ta dance, Olly,” Hagrid argued.

 

Hermione giggled at the exchange, commenting to the professor next to her quietly, “I think someone will need your Pepper Up Potion tomorrow.”

Snape smirked, nodding in agreement, “So it seems.”  He glanced down at her foot, which she had not taken the shoe off, “Are you intending to wear only one shoe for the remainder of the evening?”

“What? Oh!”

 

“I want ta dance, Olympe,” Hagrid had begun to beg.

 Dumbledore clapped his hands loudly, “Dance we shall, Hagrid. Let us all participate!”

 

Hermione leaned slightly over to unbuckle her shoe just as Hagrid stumbled backward into her, pushing her over so that she was pressed against her professor’s side and had to sturdy herself by placing her hand on the small bit of cushion between Snape and the arm of the sofa; Hermione glanced sheepishly up at him, frozen in embarrassment at the particular situation, “Sorry…”

 She then frowned at the huge, oblivious man, who was now tugging Madame Maxime toward the center of the room as she straightened, leaving Snape staring at her, dazed.

 

Hermione sighed, “So sorry.”

His face remaining void of emotion, Snape questioned, “For what, exactly? Wanting to remove your ridiculous footwear or for climbing into my lap?”

Hermione blushed furiously, “I – I wasn’t in your lap…”

“You’re still wearing your shoe,” Snape glanced down at her foot, “Do you want to make another attempt, or should I, so that you don’t end up on top of me again?”

Hermione frowned, “I was not on top of you!”  She sighed when she saw Snape giving her an expression that clearly said ' _close enough'_ and nodded.

 

“Let us dance!” Dumbledore was flicking his wand repeatedly, the beginning seconds of songs playing as he apparently attempted to find a song Hagrid had insisted be played, “Severus!  Up! This celebration is for you; dance!”

“But Severus didn’t come with anyone,” McGonagall said quietly to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore’s eyes flicked from Snape’s face, to Hermione’s, then to Snape’s hand, which was placed on the girl’s ankle, in the process of unbuckling the strap of her shoe; the old wizard smiled, turning Minerva away from the sight, knowing she would strongly disapprove, “I think he can find someone to accompany him.”

The headmaster called, “Severus!  It’s been decided that the honored guest will be the first to dance!”

Snape just stared at the man and shook his head an infinitesimal amount.

“Severus…do you recall our agreement?”

 

Snape stood and strode to stand before the headmaster, “I agreed to not brood,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “Not to _dance._ I wasn’t informed we needed to bring a partner; none would have accompanied me, regardless.” 

His blue eyes twinkling, Dumbledore said dismissively, “So find someone who came alone.”

Snape narrowed his black eyes.

“I believe,” Dumbledore continued, “that Miss Granger did not come with anyone.”

“Are you out of your mind?  She is a student.”

Dumbledore laughed quietly, “My dear Severus, I’m not saying you should take her to bed.”  _Did he really just say that?_ “I’m simply suggesting you dance together.  You can’t deny she looks rather lovely.”

Snape growled and stormed away; Dumbledore added, “And be a gentleman, Severus.”

 

Snape came up to Hermione; he stood uncomfortably in front of her for a few moments before speaking, “We’re supposed to dance.”

Hermione lifted her eyes to him, “What?”

“We’re supposed to dance; _We._ You and I.  We’re supposed to dance.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat in a way that sounded very much like ‘ _gentleman_ ’.

Glancing toward the headmaster, Snape sighed before looking back at his student, “It seems people are going to be dancing…in couples. Would you care to join me?”

Snape saw out of the corner of his eye that Dumbledore was nodding in approval of his gentlemanliness.  Hermione, however, was not smiling; instead, she was very nearly glaring at him.

“Why?” she asked.

Almost being able to feel Dumbledore’s eyes on him, Snape sighed and offered Hermione his hand, “Come.”

The girl gave him another scrutinizing look, then put her hand in his and followed him into the center of the room, a faint smile on her face.

 

The first bits of a drippy song started; Olympe squealed in excitement; Snape groaned. _Christ_. _Celestina Warbeck. Of course._

“She’s excited,” Hermione commented, then looked at Snape, “You’re not.”

Gritting his teeth, Snape internally cursed Albus Dumbledore. _That man is intentionally doing this to me.  Do not let the old codger win, Severus._  

Snape looked down at Hermione, “I doubt this qualifies as dancing.” 

Hermione shook her head in silence. 

“We should fix that,” Snape said, “I suppose?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

Shrugging and half-nodding, Hermione looked awkwardly around the room.

Snape swallowed thickly and placed his hand on the girl’s waist; her gaze snapped to him, startled.

“You do know how to dance, don’t you?” Snape asked slightly teasingly.

She nodded, resting one hand on his shoulder, and looked at him expectantly.

Trying not to chuckle, Snape asked, “Are your lips working?”

Hermione’s brown eyes widened; Snape realized how she had taken his question and could no longer withhold a chortle, “Don’t worry, Miss Granger; that’s not what I meant; I merely meant you’re not speaking, which is a rare thing from you.” They had unknowingly begun to sway slightly to the music. 

Snape sighed, “Perhaps I should enjoy the silence while I can; I doubt it will last long.”

Hermione pulled her hand out of his and put it on her hip, “That’s rude.”

Smirking, Snape responded, “I was right that it wouldn’t last long.” They looked at each other in a friendly sort of challenge for a few moments before Snape took her hand, “You lied to me; you don’t know how to dance.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Snape rested the hand he was clutching on his shoulder and brought his to her waist, pulling her slightly closer to himself, “This is a waltz, Miss Granger.”

Staring at him, dumbfounded, Hermione narrowed her eyes, “I’m shocked, Professor, that you know how to dance.” 

Rolling his eyes subtly, the professor commented, “I do hope the fact will not be spread around the school.”

“Of course not,” the girl confirmed.

 A smirk played at Snape’s mouth, “I would hate for anything to contradict the students’ opinion that I’m a cold gargoyle.”

Laughing heartily as she threw her head back, Hermione became still, halting their dance briefly before she shook her head once, “We can’t have that! The horror!”

“That opinion,” Snape continued as Hermione began to contain her giggling, “I’m afraid, is not one only held by the students.”

He glanced meaningfully around at the people in the room, nearly all of whom had stopped dancing and were now looking at the student-teacher pair in disbelief.

Hermione quickly looked about to and see that her laughter had gained them quite a lot of spectators.  She frowned and resumed their dance.  She made a point to gradually lessen the gap between herself and Snape, almost defiantly.

Speaking in a quiet tone so as not to be overheard, Hermione looked at her teacher, “Let them stare.  That opinion of you is not shared by everyone, and certainly not by me.”

A few seconds after she had said this, before half of the guests had had the decency to stop gaping, the song ended and was replaced by a leisurely tune. Hermione slowly took her hand off Snape’s shoulder and looked at him. He released her waist and turned silently; Hermione grabbed his hand.  Snape looked at her in an almost offended, very baffled way.

She smiled, “Professor, I think I’d like to keep dancing…” The air empty of most conversation became immediately void of any sound other than the music. “with you,”  Hermione knew there was a very good chance that she would be refused and have to return to all of her classes in the awkward shame not only of having her request denied, but of even desiring to dance with Snape in the beginning.  She thought, however, that, even if he did brush her off, at least perhaps the staff would begin to see that not everyone hated the man.

She swallowed almost audibly, waiting for his biting reply.

The corner of Snape’s mouth turned slightly up; he returned to face his student, taking her waist in both of his hands this time, “If you like.”

Sighing in relief, Hermione smiled, nodding as she placed her wrists on his shoulders, “Thank you.”

She thought it a very odd thing that she was currently dancing with ‘the dreaded Potions Master’, that her hands were on his shoulders, not to mention that his hands were on her waist.  Hermione pondered over the fact that she didn’t find his hands entirely objectionable. Snape quietly emitted a chuckle.

“What?” Hermione asked curiously.

Snape subtly laughed, “I’m glad you don’t think me wholly repulsive,” he smirked.

“Damn you,” Hermione scolded, “Get out of my head.”

“What was it?” Snape chided, “My _hands aren’t entirely objectionable_?”

Glaring softly at her professor, she said, “That’s not fair, sir. If you’re going to invade the privacy of my thoughts, you should have to give up yours.”

“I’m afraid that’s not quite how it works, Miss Granger.”

She stomped her foot, “It is with me.”

Tightening his mouth briefly, Snape said, “If you’re going to throw a fit, please feel free.”

“Professor! I didn’t dance with you so you could read my mind!”

Squaring his jaw, the professor sighed, “Would an apology even the score?”

Hermione shook her head then said, “You can’t see what I think unless I get to know your thoughts.” 

Snape sighed, “You really are an infuriating witch.”

Grinning proudly, Hermione said, “I know.  Now tell me.”

Growling briefly, the professor spoke, “Fine.  I greatly appreciate your endeavor to change their opinion of me.” 

“Was that so hard?”

Snape glowered at her. 

“Now, what else have you stolen from my brain?”

Clearing his throat, he replied, “I determined you weren’t lying when you congratulated me the first evening here.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, “Alright.  A thought for a thought, Professor.”

“I can’t stand this wretched music; I despise Celestina Warbeck.”

Making a face of disappointment, Hermione said, “Everyone does; that’s not an original thought.  Try again.”

Snape cleared his throat and tugged her closer as he lowered his voice, “How about you look very lovely this evening?  But, I’m certain that’s not an original thought, either.”

Blushing, Hermione didn’t know whether she was more surprised that Snape had thought this or that he had spoken it.  Her face flooded with red, she quietly muttered, “Th – thank you…thank you, sir.”

They were silent for a minute before Hermione asked, “Did you enjoy your summer?”

 

She and the professor chatted as they swayed to the music, talking of their preferred books, favorite authors, places they’d each travelled, and where they still wanted to see. 

The song ended; Dumbledore announced, “I daresay it’s time to end the festivities.  Thank you all for coming.”

Sliding her hands from Snape’s shoulders, Hermione blinked as though coming out of a daze, “Thank you for the dance, sir.”  She stood slightly on her toes and lightly pecked his cheek.

Snape looked at her, stunned for a moment by the fact that she had just pressed her lips to his face, “It was my pleasure, Miss Granger. Good evening.”


	3. Peculiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets detention, during which Snape assigns more detention. The professor starts behaving oddly...

“How is the repair of the Vanishing Cabinet coming, Draco?” Voldemort asked from his seat at the head of a long dining table in Malfoy Manor.

 Draco glanced nervously at his mother before answering the pale wizard in a slightly shaky voice, “Um…it’s – it’s…well, I’m making progress.”

"I expect it to be fully functional by the end of May,” The Dark Lord’s cold eyes fell on Snape, seated near the middle of the table, “I trust you are aware of what role you play in this, Severus?”

Snape swallowed, nodded once, and replied, “I am.”

The snakelike man sneered, “Good.  I’ll be summoning each and every one of you regularly over the next several months; do not disappoint me by failing to arrive.”

“My Lord,” Snape spoke, “as I’m sure you’re aware, it may not always be possible for me to attend; if I am to continue to deceive Dumbledore, I must appear to be on his side.”

Voldemort looked at Snape; the dark-haired wizard had been blocking his every thought throughout the entire meeting, as he usually did, and Snape was very glad of his Occlumency skill, for he could feel Voldemort snaking through his mind.

Apparently finding nothing of interest to him, Voldemort emerged from his follower’s thoughts and frowned at him, “Do what you must, my dear friend, but bear in mind, Severus, I _will_ see these plans through, and you can either be on our side, or you can die.”

 

 

_________________________

 

 

“Have fun,” Ron said sarcastically to Harry and Hermione as the pair headed through the common room on their way to Slughorn’s first party, which was intended to provide an opportunity for the members of _The Slug_ Club, as it was called, to become familiarized with one another.

Harry and Hermione walked leisurely to the party.

“Don’t mind Ron, Harry; he’s just cranky because he feels left out.”

“Harry, m’boy!” Slughorn greeted them enthusiastically when they arrived, “And Miss Granger!  Wonderful to see you both.”

 

They meandered around the room, chatting with guests and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. Seeing Snape, Hermione steered her friend away from him, not wanting an awkward encounter. Harry spotted Ginny, excused himself from Hermione’s company, and went to talk to the red-haired girl. Feeling awkward and abandoned, Hermione snatched a mushroom cap from a serving tray passed in front of her and took tiny bites of it. 

“Granger!” the blood drained from Hermione’s face as she heard Cormack McLaggen’s call. He approached her, “Well, don’t you look alluring? 

She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be coy, Granger, you vixen,” Cormack brought his hand under her chin; Hermione recoiled, turning away.

Seeing her eyes dart around the room, Cormack placed his hand on her hip and smiled condescendingly, “Shy one, are you?”

Hermione’s brown eyes flitted around the room again, desperately attempting to find an escape; she caught sight of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Snape happened to meet her gaze as he was surveying the room; he noticed that her eyes were full of desperation. 

Cormack chuckled, “Alright, Granger, if you’re so shy, let’s go where no one will be watching,” he took her wrist and tugged her reluctantly through the other guests and to the side of the room; he pushed aside a decorative curtain and pulled her behind it, pushing her up against the wall, his grip on her shoulder tight enough to make Hermione wince, “Is this private enough?”

Cormack pressed his mouth to hers, causing Hermione to cringe as she attempted to push him away. The curtain was violently parted and Snape leaned his head in to peer at the two, “Detention; both of you.  Get out of here. 

Cormack bolted, leaving Hermione against the wall.  Snape shook his head in disapproval, stepping behind the curtain as well, “You’ve got a real charmer, there.”

Hermione scoffed, “Cormack?  Please! He’s dreadful.  If I’d have had my wand, I’d have hexed him.” She clapped her hands over her mouth, realizing she had just admitted she’d have attacked a fellow student.

“I saw your expression – it clearly indicated you wished he would stop his actions,” Snape said, “I’m not going to report your statement; it was not a threat – merely a comment on a hypothetical circumstance. Don’t worry, Hermione." 

Startled by his use of her first name, Hermione stammered, “Oh – uh…right, um, yeah, thanks…”

His black eyes shifted to Hermione’s shoulder, which bore the red marks of Cormack’s grip; he stepped closer to her; Snape lightly brought his fingers to her shoulder, “He hurt you.”

The girl shivered at Snape’s fingertips on her skin, “It’s fine.”

“It most certainly is not,” the professor said firmly, “He put his hands on you.”

Hermione blinked up at Snape, “Which is what you’re doing now.”

“And yet,” Snape’s eyes flitted briefly to his fingers resting on her shoulder, “Your expression is not indicating you wish I remove my touch,” he stepped closer to her, “How intriguing.”

Her breath quickening, Hermione looked determinedly into her professor’s onyx eyes; she was just wondering what secrets lurked beneath their ink-black depths when Snape brought his face a mere three inches from her own, so close she could feel the heat from his words on her skin as he spoke in a hushed tone, “Your detention begins at seven tomorrow evening; I would advise you not to be a moment late." 

Hermione swallowed loudly as he straightened; she was confused – and a little frightened – by the effect her professor had on her. 

She crept out from behind the curtain, surprised to feel dampness between her legs.  Hermione’s abdomen was on fire; she felt a desire she had never experienced, and spent the remainder of Slughorn’s party feeling very strange. 

 

 

Once Hermione and Harry had returned to the Gryffindor common room, they sat on the plush chairs; Hermione looked inquisitively at her friend, “I noticed you spent the evening with Ginny.”

Harry shrugged dismissively, although he grew slightly pink.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject from himself, “So, how’s McLaggen?”

Shrugging apathetically, Hermione said, “I dunno…he didn’t talk to me; he just…” she made a face of disgust.

“Did you punch him like you did Malfoy third year?”

Hermione smiled faintly, reminiscing about her encounter with Draco Malfoy; Harry and Ron had been stunned by her sudden burst of violence; he had deserved it, though…

“No,” Hermione shook her head once, “Snape ran him off.”

“What?”

“Yeah, well, I guess he saw McLaggen pull me aside, and he rescued me. Cormack took one look at him and bolted.”

“That doesn’t sound like something he’d do…” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t it?” Hermione scoffed, “Fleeing when he thinks he’s in trouble?”

Frowning, he replied, “I meant Snape; he’s not the sort of person who’d ‘ _rescue’_ anyone.”

After glaring at him briefly, Hermione sighed, “Well, he gave us both detention.”

 

 

_________________________

 

 

“The two of you will scrub the cauldrons, scoops, and scales in the back,” Snape spoke sternly to Cormack and Hermione the following evening, “No magic.” 

Cormack groaned. 

“Is there something you would like to say, McLaggen?”

“N – no sir…” 

The two students begrudgingly went to the large sinks against the wall.

Hermione filled her sink with soapy water and began washing the largest of the cauldrons in the pile stacked between herself and Cormack. She scrubbed at the solidified thestral bile, surprised at how hard it was; this was no easy job. After five minutes of scraping, she finally was able to rinse the difficult pot and set it aside. Hermione took another cauldron from the counter, relieved to see that it appeared as though it would be a less challenging task. She washed and rinsed, washed and rinsed; she had made a reasonable amount of progress, seeing that she had cleaned around a quarter of the dishes in the mound.

Hearing splashing water accompanied by a loud grunt from the other side of the pile of dishes, Hermione peered around the mountain, curious as to why Cormack was struggling. The sight before her was both amusing and sad: Cormack's clothes were soaked, he had bubbles up to his elbows and soap in his hair. She noticed that Cormack had only washed five items, "Having some trouble? Do you want some help?"

She had apparently startled him; Cormack jumped slightly and quickly turned to look at her, his elbow hitting the stacked things they were to wash. Several cauldrons clattered loudly through the floor.

"What in God's name happened?" Snape quickly approached. 

Flushing, Cormack stammered, "Granger asked if I needed help – I guess it was obvious I've never watched a dish, and, well she startled me and I jumped, knocking everything to the floor."

"Granger! Will you ever learn to keep your nose out of any business that is not explicitly yours?  Have I not made it clear that you are not supposed to aid other students in their work? Your defiance just earned two weeks’ detention."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it and quickly shut it. 

Flicking his wand, levitating the dishes on the floor and returning them to the counter, Snape glared at his students, "Finish." 

Growling under her breath after Snape walked away, Hermione cursed her helpful nature. She glanced over her shoulder to be certain that the professor was nowhere around then spoke quietly, "You’re not using enough soap. We'll be here all night if you don't use more than a microscopic amount."

Once Cormack started using the right amount of soap, it only took two and a half hours for all of the dishes to be successfully cleaned.

 

 

 _________________________

 

 

"Ugh," Hermione flopped onto the sofa in the Gryffindor common room after detention; she was relieved that Cormack had gone straight to his dormitory, since she wanted to chat with Harry before going to bed herself.

"How was detention?" Harry asked mockingly, earning him an icy look.

She sulked for a few moments, growling to herself, before muttering, "I tried to help Cormack; Snape had us washing cauldrons and such by hand and apparently Cormack had never done this."

"Tell me Snape didn't catch you." Seeing Hermione's expression, Harry groaned, "Hermione!  You've got to stop doing that; shouldn't you know that by now?"

Frowning, the girl groaned, "That's what Snape said… Before giving me two weeks of detention." 

"Well," Harry said, his sarcasm clear in his voice, "you have fun with that."

Hermione threw the pillow beside her at her friend, "Thanks for the compassion.  I'm going to bed."

 

 

_________________________

 

 

The Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom was even more dimly lit than usual, only about ten candlesticks lighting the rather large room.  The students were hunched over their books, struggling to read the chapter Snape had indicated, grunting and squinting in the darkness, occasionally stopping to rub their quickly tiring eyes.

Ron grunted from his seat beside Hermione, bringing the pages an inch from his face, "Psst, Hermione," he whispered, "What's this word?  I can't make it out; it's either _purple_ or _people_.”

Hermione barely glanced at him, "Which word?"

"This one - the middle paragraph, the first sentence."

She quickly found the sentence her friend was struggling with and sighed, "People.  Honestly, Ronald, how on earth could a color be deceased?"

"Oh." 

"Next time, use context clues," Hermione muttered under her breath.

Her words were apparently not spoken softly enough; Snape approached them, "What could possibly be so captivating as to require discussion in the middle of my lesson?"

Ron suddenly became very interested in learning about Inferi and buried his nose in the textbook.

"I - I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione stammered an explanation, "It's just, Ron was having trouble making out a word, as it's so dark in here; perhaps you could light a few more candles, sir."

Snape pursed his lips and looked at her for a moment before stating, "See me after class, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded silently, internally admonishing herself.

She scorned her behavior for the next several minutes before realizing that she hadn't done anything wrong; Hermione spent half hour that was left of the period begrudging her professor - he was being the so unfair - even more impatient than he generally was!

 

 

"As consequence of your disregard for my instructions to _silently_ read your textbook, I am extending this evening’s detention by an hour," Snape said after the other students had left the classroom.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, "Sir, I was only in trying to help Ronald read the chapter; he couldn't see a word." 

"What have I told you about helping other students with a task that was not assigned to you?"

"Sorry, sir.  I suppose I'll see you at seven o'clock," the student said before turning and leaving the room.  She had never been Snape’s biggest fan, but she did think he was being even more unfair than usual.

 

_________________________

  

 

“Did Snape give you another weeks detention for it?” Ron asked over supper. 

“No,” Hermione replied, “Just an extra hour tonight.”

Harry nearly dropped his fork, “What? Only an hour?  That’s unbelievable!  He’d usually tack on a few weeks; that’s peculiar.”

Hermione frowned thoughtfully, “Yeah…very peculiar.”


	4. Lecturing Snape

Hermione knocked on the solid wooden door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom after dinner; she was returned with silence.  She knocked again and once again was met with nothing but the hollow sound of her knuckles on the wood.  Frowning, Hermione knocked a third time, harder, as she called, “Professor?”  She tentatively pushed open the door and entered the classroom, uncertain.  Hermione called out again, “Professor?  Professor Snape? It’s Hermione Granger; I’m here for detention…”

Sighing, she sat at a desk to wait for her teacher.

After a while, she glanced at her watch; she had been waiting for twenty minutes.  Just as Hermione was considering leaving, the door to the classroom was flung open and a rather disheveled Snape stood just outside; his face was a faint grey color, his robes, which were usually perfectly straight and unwrinkled, were crumpled around his body as though he had only just picked them out of a pile and hurriedly thrown them on, and his hair, which generally hung limp on either side of his face, was mussed and had no distinguishable part.  Hermione’s jaw dropped at the sight.

After a moment, she got over the shock and said, “Pro – professor?”

Apparently, Snape hadn’t realized that his student was there; his eyes snapped to her and he demanded, “What are you doing here, Granger?” 

Fidgeting, Hermione cleared her throat, “I – I have detention, sir,” she paused before asking, “Are you alright?”

His black eyes pierced into Hermione’s chocolate ones, “Was this door open?"

“What?”

 He nearly growled, “The door, you stupid girl, was it open?”

Hermione shook her head, “N – No.” 

Snape’s face grew solid and stony, his eyes darkening to an even deeper black; Hermione was suddenly frightened.

“You opened the door to my classroom? Without my permission?”

She slowly stood, preparing to flee, “I’m sorry; I apologize, sir.”

The teacher’s mouth tightened, “Sit. down.”

Hermione sat again.

“How did you manage to get past the warding spells?”

“What – what warding spells?” Hermione slowly realized that she wasn’t being reprimanded; Snape was concerned about his protective charms on his classroom, “There weren’t any, sir; I just opened the door.”

“Damn it,” Snape cursed himself. He was silent for several minutes.

Hermione cleared her throat, “Professor…, are you okay? What happened to you?”

His gaze returned to his student, “That does not concern you.  You entered my classroom without my permission, Miss Granger, which is a clear invasion of privacy. You have apparently decided that you’d like to spend this entire year in detention; why else would you continue to so blatantly ignore the rules which you previously thought were of such grave importance?”

The student just blinked up at him. 

“For now, you are to return to your House,” Snape said, “I do not wish to endure your presence this evening. However, you will return for detention tomorrow, and every evening until the second term ends.”

“But I was only trying to – ”

“Get out.”

 

_________________________

  

Hermione was seething; she sat on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, violently wringing a pillow in her hands, yanking and pulling on it until the stuffing was peeking out of the seams here and there.

“You okay, Hermione?”  Ron asked, entering the room.

“I’m wonderful,” she said through clenched teeth, “other than Snape giving me detention until the end of next term!”

Flopping onto a chair, Ron frowned, “Can he do that? Hey, ‘arry, can that bat give Hermione detention ‘til April?” 

Not looking up from the parchment he was scribbling Quidditch plays onto, Harry nodded, “Yeah, remember, he gave Seamus detention until the end of last year?  You must have really pissed him off, Hermione.”

Giving her a sympathetic look, Ron sighed, “Just be glad this term’s almost half over.”

  

_________________________

  

As Hermione made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom the following evening, she pondered where Snape had been that had made him forget that she had detention, and what had happened to cause his peculiar appearance.  She had made up her mind not to ask him, not wanting to get herself on his bad side, by the time she knocked on the classroom door. 

Snape tossed a large pile of papers on a desk, “I trust your previous instructors taught you enough to accurately grade the quizzes of First Years?”

She nodded silently and sat, then began marking the tests.  Once in a while, Hermione stole a glance at the teacher, noticing that he seemed to be on edge; he was clearly clenching his teeth and stretching his hands more than usual, his eyes occasionally flitting to the door. 

Sighing heavily, Hermione decided that he was probably stressed over whatever had him occupied the prior evening.

“Is there any particular reason that you insist on gawking at me, Miss Granger?”

He had caught her inquisitive survey of him.

“I was just – sorry, sir; I was just wondering why you’re anxious.”

Snape’s eyes briefly lowered to his forearm before returning to the girl, “Am I anxious?  It’s strange that I’m not aware of my anxiety.  Get back to work.”

She frowned at him before returning to the quizzes. Hermione saw out of her peripheral vision that Snape was idly rubbing his arm; she knew that there was a dark tattoo under the sleeve of his robe exactly where he was massaging.

As soon as she had finished a class’s tests, Snape would stride to the table where she sat and drop another stack in its place, never saying a word.  After grading at least half of the First Year’s papers, Hermione’s hand was aching; she shook out her wrist, quill still in hand; ink droplets splattered across the papers and onto her cheek.  She cursed under her breath before using her wand to remove the stray blots from the parchment.

“Why do you have your wand out?” Snape demanded when he glanced up.

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked at him, “I splattered ink on the quizzes.”

Snape smirked faintly, “Foolish girl. You’ve adorned your face, as well, although, I’d have to say it’s an improvement.”

Calmly setting her quill down, Hermione sighed and looked directly into her teacher’s eyes, “Professor, I’m certain that you’re aware that was very rude.  You were, at the party for you, pleasant company, and perhaps even amiable. I see no reason why your behavior would change so drastically.  As a matter of fact, if I recall correctly – and I’m certain I do – you were rather friendly, and you even managed to compliment me.  You need to decide how you’re going to behave and refrain from sudden changes; it’s giving me whiplash.”  She immediately picked up her quill once more and returned to the tests, leaving Snape scrutinizing her in silence.

After all of the quizzes had been graded, Hermione left the room, giving her professor a quiet farewell.

 

_________________________

 

It was with a slightly sick stomach that Hermione entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom the next night; would Snape give her some horrible task in reaction to her lecture?

Snape didn’t even say a word to her; he merely dropped a stack of parchment on a desk and cut his eyes to her. Hermione sat and proceeded to grade the Second Year tests.  She scratched her quill over the papers, deducting points and giving letter grades; Hermione glanced up at her professor, and was startled to see him looking at her speculatively.  She returned his gaze, raising her eyebrows at him in question; finally, Snape cleared his throat softly, “You were disrespectful to me.”

She raised her eyebrows even higher in response.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Granger?”

Hermione blinked at him, “I wasn’t. I only said that you should make a decision about how you’re intending to treat me.”

 Snape tightened his mouth and gave a thoughtful nod.

_________________________

 

“You’d think he’d be in a good mood,” Ron commented with a mouthful of pot pie, “I mean, it’s what he’s always wanted, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts; now that he’s got the job, it’s like he’s tryin’ to punish us all, as though _we_ didn’t give him the job for all those years.”

Harry frowned at the red-haired boy, “I don’t expect Snape’s ever been in a good mood, but he does seem even worse.”

Hermione shot the boys a glare as she scoffed.

“What?” Ron said, “You’re still defending him, even though he’s got you in detention for months?”

“He’s under a lot of pressure,” Hermione said.

Harry eyed her suspiciously, “I think he’s been getting into your head this past month.”

“Oh, shut up,” she stood, “I’m going to be late.”


	5. The Torture of Severus Snape

“Miss Granger,” Snape stiffly spoke to Hermione when she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; she was taken aback, for he had never greeted her.

“Good evening, sir,” she replied somewhat nervously.

“Come,” he said, walking to the edge of the room. On the counter, Hermione saw a huge cylindrical tank filled with brown water, thick clumps dispersed here and there. She looked at her teacher in question.

“When Professor Lupin was employed here, he took the liberty of bringing along a grindylow,” Snape’s tone was disapproving and judgmental, “What you see before you is that grindylow, which he very graciously left behind upon his resignation.”

Hermione looked at the tank, wrinkled her nose, and asked, “What – what _is_ that?” She had a sneaking suspicion, but desperately hoped she was wrong.

Snape looked sideways at her, “The creature has defiled the tank with feces.”

Hermione backed away a step, “What? It _pooped_?”

“You are eloquent as always,” Snape remarked, “But, yes, several times, it seems.”

“What…what do you want me to do with it?” 

He frowned, “It would be a death I would wish on no one, to drown in water tainted with your own filth.”

“Better than someone else’s,” Hermione commented.

The corner of Snape’s mouth twitched.

“You want me to clean it, don’t you?”

“The only other option would be to do it myself, Miss Granger." 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“As it happens,” Snape continued, “It will be a two person task; one will need to hold the creature while the other scrubs the tank.”

“Fine,” the student replied, “But I’m not cleaning that mess; I’ll hold the grindylow.”

Snape frowned at her briefly before snatching a pair of dragon-hide gloves and tossing them at her, “Put those on.”

Hermione stuffed her hands into the thick gloves and tugged them down around her wrists and pulled them up to her elbows, glad that they would prevent the dirty water from touching her skin.

“Be certain they’re _very_ secure,” Snape instructed.

She nodded, “Okay.  They are.  Now what?”

Smirking slightly, the professor said, “Now you reach into the tank and pull him out; grab his torso, and _do not_ touch his hands." 

“Ugh,  Gross!” Hermione commented and steeled herself to dunk her hands into the dirty liquid.  She stood on her toes to reach the top of the tank, but she was too short.  “I’m not tall enough!”

Rolling his eyes, Snape lifted the large tank from the counter, the nasty water sloshing around, and held it so Hermione could reach over the top of the glass.  She scrunched her nose and plunged her hands into the disgusting water, grabbed the calloused torso of the grindylow and lifted it from the tank. The gross little demon gave her an offended glare and scratched at the air in front of it, clearly attempting to claw its captor. 

Hermione shook her head at the creature, “No sir. You’re just a vicious little thing, aren’t you?  You should be thankful, mister; we’re cleaning your tank!  Trying to scratch me is not a very nice thing to do when we’re helping you!”

Snape looked at her oddly, “Are you scolding a grindylow?”

She frowned at her teacher, “Well, he’s being rude.”

Snape scoffed in amusement as he cleaned the solidified scum from the tank.  After three _scourgifying_ charms and five minutes of scrubbing the tank with a rough sponge, Snape growled, “Put it back.”

Hermione stepped to the tank, which Snape held down for her to reach, and lowered the grindylow into the now-clean water. Suddenly, Snape made a pained face and dropped the tank to the floor. 

As soon as she saw her teacher flinch and his arms stiffen, Hermione knew that his Dark Mark was burning – Voldemort was summoning him.

"Miss Granger," Snape's voice was shaking slightly, "this evening's detention is over; you are dismissed."

"The floor – ” Hermione started, intending to point out that the stone was covered in the water that had splashed out of the tank they had just cleaned.

 "Will still be wet when I return," Snape said, "You need to leave."

Nodding once, Hermione ducked out of the classroom.

 

_________________________

 

Snape watched the girl exit his room, steeled himself, then strode out the door and into the hallway.  He walked quickly out of the dungeons, ascended a staircase, and made his way into the main portion of the castle.  He was nearing the atrium when he saw out of the corner of his eye a shadow moving. 

"Professor?"  Hermione Granger's voice hesitantly whispered.

After giving an impatient sigh, Snape turned stiffly to her silhouette, "I don't currently have time for your nonsense, Miss Granger; get to your House."

The shape of the student slowly moved toward him, "I - I just wanted… Just be careful, Professor."

"If you're quite done giving me advice that is unnecessary and rather obvious, I must be on my way."

Hermione fidgeted, "I'm sorry, Professor; it seems and an odd time to be called. Do you have any idea what… _He_ wants?"

Snape frowned in the darkness, "I'm not sure as to how you became aware of my… unfortunate affiliation, Miss Granger, but I assure you that none who follow the Dark Lord knows why he is summoned until he arrives."

Hermione noticed that her teacher's voice was strained and perhaps even shaking a bit; he was worried.

"Just - just be careful, Professor," Hermione said sincerely before Snape turned and left the castle.

 

_________________________

 

"Would you care to explain your tardiness, Severus?"

Snape did not respond to Voldemort, but merely lowered his eyes to the table in submission.

"We had, in your absence, been discussing Draco's plan to gift Dumbledore with a necklace that has been cursed," Voldemort said.

His black eyes falling to Malfoy, Snape remarked, "Certainly you don't intend to deliver it yourself?"

"Well, how else am I supposed to do it?"

"Draco, think," Snape said, scolding the boy, "Have someone else do it."

The boy's father nodded, "Yes, son, there's no need for you to directly pass along the necklace."

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment, by his ponderings were interrupted when Voldemort loudly started another conversation, "Also, it has come to my attention that Harry Potter is close to discovering my greatest achievement; Bellatrix, there are two items which you will store in your vault at Gringott’s."

Bellatrix nodded gleefully, "Yes, of course, my Lord, anything… Anything you need.  What items, if I might ask?"

"Just trinkets," Voldemort said nonchalantly, "a cup and a sword."

Snape's eyes narrowed; Voldemort could not lock Godric Gryffindor’s sword away - it was crucial that Harry Potter have it in his possession, "These must be very important to you, my Lord," Snape said casually, "You trust goblins to protect them? I strongly advise you to put protective charms in place on the items as well as put them in Bella's vault, a simple gemino spell, perhaps.”

Voldemort nodded once, "So I will consider it. That is all for tonight, my friends; thank you for your prompt arrivals."  His red, empty eyes fell on Snape, "Severus, you will stay behind; there is another matter which we need to address."

Snape swallowed; he knew what that meant, and so it was with great reluctance that he stood from the long dining table, "My Lord, I do apologize for my lateness; I'm afraid it was unavoidable. The Granger girl was my classroom when you called."

Raising his pale hand, cutting off Snape's words, Voldemort shook his head, "It seems you always have an excuse; I have overlooked many of your transgressions, Severus, however you are bordering on defiance.  I expect unwavering loyalty."

Snape steeled himself just in time, for Voldemort flicked his wand and hissed, " _Crucio!_ ”

He had endured the torture curse numerous times in his life, but it never became easier to bear; Snape's entire body flinched violently before he collapsed to the stone flooring of the dining room, every muscle within him convulsing uncontrollably as he was flooded with excruciating pain.

There was no reprieve; Voldemort kept the Cruciatus Curse on the professor for half an hour, his pale, thin lip curling with malicious enjoyment at watching the wizard suffer.

Although Snape had been on the receiving end of the curse previously, he had never been tormented with it for such a lengthy time; when Voldemort had finally lifted the curse, Snape was covered with a sheen of sweat and his right arm was especially achy.  He fumbled slowly to stand; Snape had barely regained his balance before Voldemort sneered, "I suggest you arrive on time when I call you again."


	6. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape returns to the castle after the meeting at Malfoy Manor and to his torture. Broken, bruised, and weak, Snape receives aid from Hermione Granger.

With as much dignity as possible, Snape turned to leave the dining room in the Malfoy house; he was weak from his muscles being strained for thirty minutes straight with the Cruciatus Curse and he could tell that he was going to collapse.  With much effort, Snape made it out the door of the mansion before he sighed, clutched the wrought iron railing and leaned over it to hold himself up. Panting, Snape cursed Voldemort for his malice, Dumbledore for insisting that he continue the ruse, and himself for not having the ability to refuse.  When he had finished his resentful thinking, Snape tested his steadiness and decided to walk slowly, rather than at his normal pace, for he already wasn't quite sure he would have the energy, even now, to do the kind of magic it would take to Appaarate back to the castle.  He cautiously made his way down the drive, wobbling here and there from weakness.  He walked through the tall gate then checked his pocket watch; it had been three hours since that Dark Lord had called him.  Mustering every shred of energy left within him, Snape turned on the spot, focusing intently on the path directly outside the Hogwarts’ grounds; he usually chose a different destination, a small side street in Hogsmead, but he knew that he currently would not be able to make the trek from the little village to the school. Snape hoped he would be able to make it from just outside the school grounds to his quarters, but he was uncertain even of that.

He arrived on this slightly muddy dirt a few yards from the castle lawn and began sluggishly toward the school; it was a slow, exhausting stumble, however, Snape was very relieved to have the stone wall of the castle to lean back against as he recuperated from the effort he had just expended.  The wizard groaned almost as loudly as the huge doors when he pushed them open. Placing his hand on the door, ensuring that it had closed, Snape sighed heavily before turning and trudging with no coordination into the dungeons.  As the teacher carefully descended the stairs, he grumbled, realizing that he had not lit any torch as before he had left; he took out his wand and flicked it once, causing the sconces on the cold stone walls to fill with flames.

 

"Professor?  Oh, Professor!  What did He _do_ to you?"

"Dammit, Miss Granger, what are you doing here?"  Snape said, seeing the girl’s figure at the same time he heard her voice.

Hermione took a cautious but panicked step towards him, "That doesn't matter.  I'll go wake Madam Pomfrey." 

She started to leave the dungeons to retrieve the Healer, but Snape grasped her wrist as she passed him, "No. She mustn't know."

Hermione blinked at him then nodded once, "Okay. But it looks like you're bleeding an awful lot; that needs to stop or Madam Pomfrey will find out when she pronounces you dead."

Scoffing only a little, for he didn't have the energy to do much more, Snape replied, "I have no intention of dying tonight, Miss Granger, thank you."  With that, he turned unsteadily, tugged open the door to his old Potions his classroom, and disappeared into it.  Snape stumbled across the large room and entered the storage closet, needing to take some essence of dittany, for he knew he didn't have any in his quarters. Slughorn wouldn't mind Snape using the potion, but it would raise too many questions to which couldn’t give an answer; he shed his cloak, taking a seat on a rung of the ladder, then unbuttoned and removed his shirt, wincing as the fabric was peeled from his fresh wounds. He applied the potion to his skin, internally cursing Hermione for being so nosy; she had no business seeing him in such a state, weak and wounded.

 

"Professor?  Professor, are you alright?  Oh!" Hermione had followed him into the Potions classroom and was currently standing just outside the door to the storage closet, frozen and flustered at the sight of her teacher shirtless and wounded.

"Why are you still here?" Snape said, standing too quickly for his weakened state, wobbling dangerously as he clumsily attempted to pull his cloak to cover his bare torso, turning his back to her, "I am going to bed; I suggest you do the same."  The professor returned the little bottle of dittany to a shelf; Hermione noticed that his hand was unsteady.

"No, I'm not going to bed," Hermione said firmly, "and neither are you.  Sit down."

To her surprise, the professor listened, although she had to admit it was more likely a result of his weak legs than obedience, for he didn't sit as much as collapse onto the ladder. 

She stood on her toes to reach the bottle of dittany that Snape had returned to its spot on the shelf; Hermione removed the stopper and frowned at her teacher, "You really were going to go to bed still covered in these cuts?" 

Snape just sighed. 

Hermione drizzled the potion onto her professor’s back, wondering at what point she had come to be bothered by the idea that he was suffering. After setting the tiny bottle down, she lightly spread the dittany over the cuts with her fingertips. The potion was cool, but Hermione's hands were warm and rather pleasant on his skin. 

She watched as the wounds slowly closed, and was startled to see that much of Snape's back was adorned with scars.  Absentmindedly, she traced them with her fingers.  Hermione was rather fascinated by one long, wide scar that ran up his right shoulder blade; she lightly followed it, only grazing her fingers over his skin.  The roped scar curved over his shoulder and drew a line three inches down the front of his shoulder; unaware exactly what she was doing, Hermione trailed the scar onto his scapula, curved over it, and drug her fingers along the scar on his chest. Snape made a noise in his throat at her touch; Hermione swallowed loudly before breathing, "I'm so sorry, for all you've been through.  I'm so sorry." 

Her fingers were still lingering at the scar; she didn't even realize this until Snape seized her hand with his before he responded in a dangerously low voice, "Do not pity me, Miss Granger.  And what, precisely, do you think you are doing?  I am not a museum display."

"I - I know," she attempted to move hand from him, but he was clutching it too firmly, "I'm sorry; I just didn't realize how much you've had to endure."

Snape was obviously gritting his teeth when he said, "Yes, my role has been very... _involved_.  You are to tell no one of this conversation, or to speak regarding the past half hour. Be certain you don't share this information, for I will be very displeased should you breathe a word of this, and if you think I'm unpleasant now, imagine how unpleasant I could be if I learn that you've discussed this encounter."

The student remained silent, frozen and terrified.

Snape’s grip on her hand lessened, “Get out.”

_________________________

 

 

Hermione had no idea what had happened; why had Snape been punished?  Was this just routine sport for Voldemort?  She knew that the Dark wizard was a hateful, cruel person, but she would have thought that he would treat his subjects better than those that He despised. However ponderous Voldemort’s actions were, she was even more confused by her own behavior; not only had she insisted on tending to Snape's wounds, but, once the job was done and he was healed, Hermione had continued touching him… she had almost been in reverence of his scars and she had traced her fingers across them - not in order to give aid, but merely to _feel_ his skin.

The teacher was even more confused by the encounter than the girl was; it was inconceivable to Snape that he had been, in reality, half naked in a student's presence, not to mention that he had permitted Hermione to touch him.

_‘Permitted? ‘_ Snape thought, _'you had enjoyed it; don't lie to yourself, Severus.  No, you relished it.'_

Snape admitted it to himself with a groan of resignation; he had, in fact, appreciated the girl’s touch more than he should have.

_‘And you were nothing more than rude to her, even after her selfless gesture. Damn you, Severus, damn you.'_

_________________________

 

 

"Why do you look so nervous, Hermione?" Harry asked at lunch the following day.

The girl just shook her head in response; her brain was still fumbling for an explanation or a reason for both hers and her professor’s behavior, however she was currently worrying about the unavoidable state of awkwardness that would accompany her detentions with Snape, and she had very little time to work out her plan of action before that evening’s session. 

Luckily, Snape did not mention it, and merely had her grade Fourth Year’s tests.  Although they remained silent for the first half of her detention, there was palpable tension in the air.  It wasn't until Hermione scratched an ‘A’ at the top of the last quiz, gathered the pile in her hands and went to his desk that they made eye contact.

"I think the Fourth Year students might surprise you this year, Professor," Hermione spoke, giving a feeble smile.

"So far, Miss Granger, this year has been full of surprises," a shadow of a smile played at Snape's lips, "Not all of them entirely objectionable."

Hermione blinked rapidly several times, caught off guard by his obvious referral to her thoughts about his hands at the party celebrating the Professor’s new teaching post.

Snape stood slowly, "It was very kind of you to aid me last night."

Blushing, Hermione shook her head and shrugged.

"I don't believe I've properly expressed my gratitude, Miss Granger," he took her waist in his hands and Hermione thought he was going to embrace her.  However, Snape brushed his mouth over hers, let his lips linger for several seconds, then pulled only slightly away and quietly spoke, "Thank you."

Hermione nodded and swallowed thickly before sliding her arm over his shoulder and around his neck to pull his lips back down to hers. Neither of them, student nor teacher, knew what exactly had come over them, but they remained standing there, kissing one another, minds fogged.

The girl pulled away and looked at Snape, "Hermione.  I think it's acceptable, once you've kissed a person, to call them by their first name." She smirked slightly, "Especially if it becomes a regular occurrence."

"That decision remains yours, for you are the young and impressionable one." 

"Well then, I guess I should think about this for a while; it's quite a bit to consider," Hermione smirked, "For now, I have tests to grade."

 


	7. Not Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lull in updates; I adopted a rescue dog that was used as a bait dog in dogfighting and the last few weeks have been spent convincing her that she's safe, as well as keeping my other dog from being an asshole who wouldn't let her near me. 
> 
> Hopefully some readers are still interested; I know exactly where this story is going and have it all planned out - the problem is finding time to actually compose anything. 
> 
> Severus Snape/Hermione Granger are my OTP, so I will not abandon their relationship!

“Today, I will attempt to educate you on the Dark creature known as a basilisk,” Snape declared to his class of Sixth Year students, “Open your books to page 604 and read the text to page 620. You have twenty-five minutes.”

Harry rolled his eyes, groaning.

“Yes, Mister Potter?”  Snape frowned at the boy, “I assume you think you should not be required to read this chapter because of your encounter with the creature four years ago?" 

“Well, yeah,” Harry replied as though it was obvious, “I mean, I think I know all I need to about them, you know, since I killed one when I was twelve.”

“Harry!” Hermione scolded him.

Snape tightened his mouth, “I would tend to agree that defeating a basilisk at such a young age is quite an accomplishment. However, the upcoming test will not measure your battle skills, but rather you knowledge of its history.” He paused before smirking slightly, “Unless, of course, the creature told you of its origins prior to you executing it. In which case, feel free to skip this assignment.”

Hermione chuckled quietly, earning her a sharp look from Harry.  She began absentmindedly doodling a picture of Crookshanks on a scrap of parchment. The professor stopped his patrol of the classroom just before her, “Is there a reason you are using my class as an art lesson, Miss Granger?”

She immediately dropped her quill and quietly replied, “I’ve already read the chapter, sir.”

“Have you?  Tell me, then, how do basilisks breed?”

“They don’t,” Hermione responded confidently, “They come from chicken eggs that are hatched under a toad.”

“Very good, Miss Granger,” Snape nodded and walked away. The entire class watched the professor as he resumed strolling through the desks, dumbstruck by his words; he had never complimented a student.

After assigning the class three rows of parchment on the history of basilisks and Herpo the Foul, Snape dismissed them. 

Hermione bade Ron and Harry a quick goodbye as she hung back.  

Snape looked up from his desk, “Yes?”

“You really shouldn’t show me any favoritism, sir.”

“I’m certain I don’t know what you’re meaning,” he furrowed his brow slightly, “Unless you’re referring to my approval of your knowledge, in which case, that was not favoritism; you gave a correct response to my question.  Would you prefer I discriminate against you?”

Hermione frowned, “Oh.  No, of course not.”

“Come here,” Snape said, motioning for her to approach his desk and stand on the same side where he sat. 

She did so and leaned back against the desk, awkwardly tapping her fingers on her jeans and chewing her lip, avoiding looking at her teacher.  Snape slipped his fingers under her hand and held it still, “Hermione.”

She still wouldn’t look at him; Snape stood and watched her fidgeting briefly.  He brought his thumb to her bottom lip, which she was still gnawing on, “Stop that.”

Hermione obeyed and finally looked at him.

 

Snape’s mouth turned slightly up, threatening a smile. He brought his lips to hers again, very briefly, before he surveyed her expression; seeing that Hermione wore a look of dreaminess, Snape placed an open-mouthed kiss at the corner of her lips, then another against the girl’s wistful smile.   Hermione sighed, her nervousness melting away, eliminating her reservations; she allowed the professor to slide his tongue between her lips as he moved his hands to the small of her back and pulled her body against his.  Snape’s teeth scraped over her bottom lip, biting it softly before he pushed her hair back to expose her neck; he brought his mouth to the skin and kissed it slowly.

 

Hermione gently pushed him from her, “I have Charms, and I’m going to be late.”

“We can’t have that; go,” Snape replied, “I will see you after supper.”

The student nodded before rushing to Flitwick’s classroom.

 

Hermione was very distracted throughout Charms and couldn’t even focus on the words of her Transfiguration textbook in McGonagall’s class – Hermione felt almost giddy, unable to pull her mind away from her new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; she wondered if she was crazy for feeling attracted to him, especially as much as she was. Hermione wished that she had a close enough friend with whom she could discuss her interest in the man, but, unfortunately, she didn’t trust anyone – not even Ginny – enough to tell about the interactions she had had with a professor…

Hermione decided that she would try a different tactic as a way of getting opinions; after the last period had ended, when everyone had gone back to their dormitories to drop off their books, Hermione caught Ginny’s eye and gave her a meaningful look.  The red-haired girl luckily understood the silent message and hung back as the other girls left the room.

“What’s going on?"  Ginny asked.

Wringing her hands for a moment before responding, Hermione flushed a little, "How are you and Harry doing?"

"Good.  I know that's not really why you wanted to talk to me; is it?"

"N - no, not really… well, not at all, actually,” Hermione sighed, "I just - I was wondering… There's – ”

Ginny interrupted, "Is this about a boy, by any chance?"

"Yes and no; well, a man…" Hermione trailed off.

"Oh," Ginny waggled her eyebrows, "an _older_ man, I gotcha…"

Hermione made a face, "He's not _that_ old."

"Hey, I'm not judging." Ginny thought for a moment before frowning, "Hermione, are you asking me about _sex_?"

"NO!”  The thought of sex hadn't even crossed Hermione's mind, but Ginny’s mention of it immediately sent a wave of nervous nausea to her stomach, “I actually was going to ask how to keep people from finding out… I mean, he's not the type of person who publicizes things, and I want to be sure that no one suspects anything."

After thinking for several seconds, Ginny replied, "Well, for starters, just don't say anything to anyone about it - that's kind of obvious - and it just make sure he doesn't tell your dad… I'm assuming it's one of his friends…?"

There was an odd silence between the two girls for a moment before Hermione fidgeted, "Why did you think I was going to ask you about sex?"

Tossing her red hair over her shoulder, Ginny smirked, "I know you're smarter than that.  And, honestly, if he’s older than you, well, he'll almost expect it…"

"Really?  I thought that past a certain age, guys weren't really horndogs anymore…"

"Oh, Hermione, _all men_ are horndogs.”

 

_________________________

 

 

Perhaps Ginny was right, but Snape showed no remarkably horndog-like traits; he was almost _too_ well behaved, giving only swift, innocent kisses: one when she arrived for detention, and one as she left. This went on for two weeks, and Hermione was growing more frustrated each evening.

Having made up her mind to finally receive a ** _real_** kiss from her professor, she entered his classroom for detention. After he brushed his lips on hers, Hermione asked, "What am I doing tonight?"

"More grading."

"Wrong.  I'm not doing that this evening," Hermione pressed her lips against his.   "I'll do it tomorrow night."

 Snape raised his eyebrows, "And tonight?"

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hermione pulled his mouth down to hers, "This.  You haven't properly kissed me in two weeks; I'm not needy, but I do expect an actual snog once in a while…unless you mind…"

"Certainly not," Snape's hands held the small of her back, "I admit I have been overcautious… I didn't want to take anything too far."

"I thought you knew me better than that; I'm stubborn, and I don't do anything I don't want to."

"Point taken," Snape gently kissed his student, gradually allowing himself to indulge; soon, his tongue was possessing her mouth, dancing with her own as his hands slid from her waist and to her hips, then down onto her bottom.  Hermione grasped the shoulders of his cloak tightly in her fingers when his mouth found her neck.  His lips moved to the front of her neck; she leaned her head slightly back, "Professor…"

"Severus," he corrected, speaking against her skin. 

Hermione grazed her mouth over his and tugged him closer, both of her hands on the back of his head, her fingers threading up through his raven hair.  Snape took her lower lip between his teeth, lightly nipping her; this sent a shock through her, and she found herself moving closer, pressing her breasts against him. The teacher grunted in his chest and softly sucked her tongue as his hand made the trek up from her waist, over her stomach, and onto her chest, cupping her breast through her shirt. Hermione felt something grow firm against her hip; the conversation with Ginny a fortnight prior flooded her brain. Making a quick decision, she tore her shirt up over her head and placed her hand on the new bulge in his pants.

Snape pulled his mouth from hers and looked at her, "What are you doing?"

Hermione lowered herself to her knees as she struggled to undo his trousers, "Shush and help me." 

"Get up," the professor said.

Frowning at him, she didn't move.

 "Hermione, stop," Snape took hold of her upper arms and urged her to stand.

Once she had straightened, Snape's eyes flitted over her face.  He sighed, "What are you doing?" 

"I thought… You expected… me to sleep with you… Ginny said…"

"When has it ever been in your favor to listen to a Weasely?"

Hermione turned red, "Don't you want…?"

She heard Snape swallow loudly before he pressed his lips to her forehead and replied, "Very much, but not right now; not yet."

 "Yet?"

"It's been little more than a month since we first kissed; I won't take advantage of you and cause a lifetime of regret for you. Do you really want the memory of the first time to be one of me?" 

Although Hermione knew that it was a rhetorical question, she pouted, "Maybe I do.  And how do you know it be the 'first time'?"

"I was assuming."

Hermione smirked, "You know, there's a Muggle saying that how assuming makes an ass out of you and me…" She kissed his lips again.

Pulling slightly away, Snape looked at her, "Are you going to behave?"

"I can't make any promises."

Seeing his eyebrows raise, she added, "Of course. Hands above the belt."

Snape smirked and tentatively returned his hand to her breast, "That leaves the option of..."

Hermione nodded once, "You're right; it does."

His dark eyes fell to the black bra under his hand; Snape gave a quiet grunt before cupping her breast and brushing his fingers over the exposed skin above the lace.  Hermione bit her lip as his thumb deliberately rubbed back and forth over the fabric on top of her nipple, which was gradually stiffening at the sensation. Snape returned his mouth to his student's and brushed his lips on hers; Hermione sighed quietly. She felt his hands slide over her waist and onto her back before he unclasped her bra.  Removing his mouth from hers, Snape slid the straps off her shoulders, grazing his fingertips down her arms as he peeled the garment from her; he dropped it to the floor and brought his hand to the newly exposed skin. He resumed moving his mouth on Hermione’s as he rubbed and weighed her in his hand.  Running her fingers through his hair, Hermione whined against his lips as he massaged her.  Snape kissed her jaw and trailed his mouth down the front of her neck and onto her chest; he pressed his rigid member against her hip as he ran his tongue over the flesh and took her rosy bud between his lips to suckle softly.  Hermione sighed and leaned her head back in pleasure.

 

_________________________

 

Tugging her shirt back on, Hermione eyed her professor, “Well…I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow, _sir_.” She gave him a sly smile.

 

Snape cleared his throat, “Certainly.”

 

She quickly kissed him and made toward the door. Before she left, Hermione turned to look at him, “By the way, I don’t think I’d mind if you were the memory of my first time…”

 

Blindsided, Snape blinked several times, “I – you…I beg your pardon?”

 

“Goodnight, Professor,” Hermione said as she exited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment/favorite/give kudos - it's the only way I know if I'm doing a good job. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	8. Nervous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Hermione each begin to wonder if people will find out about them, making them both nervous.  
> Hermione realizes that there is another reason for her to be nervous, as well...

“How are is the new subject going for you, Severus?” Flitwick asked in his tiny voice from an armchair that nearly swallowed him.

“As expected, I suppose,” Snape said as conversationally as he could manage as McGonagall and Slughorn entered the Staff Room.

“Severus, old chap!” Slughorn exclaimed when he saw Snape sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, “I don’t believe I had the opportunity to give you a proper congratulation on finally getting to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts!”

Snape tightened his lips then replied, “Yes, I don’t think the celebration at the start of the year provided you with an adequate chance.”

Slughorn clapped his hand on Snape’s shoulder; Snape flinched and recoiled slightly.

“Nice to see you still have your fondness for sarcasm,” Slughorn commented before turning to McGonagall and Flitwick, “I remember Severus was always prepared to give a snappy response to questions he thought were rudimentary, even when my other students hadn’t a clue what I was asking. Hard one to teach, he was; critical toward his peers, but I’d never seen a more gifted student, even if he did look down on those who didn’t have his skill.”

Snape grumbled quietly and became very intent on inspecting the grain of his ebony wand. 

“To this day, Minerva, I can’t say a student has impressed me more than Severus,” Slughorn continued, “Save Miss Granger; she has real potential.” 

Snape’s obsidian eyes lifted at the mention of his student, and he became immediately alert, irrationally concerned that someone knew of the personal encounters he had shared with the girl.

“Yes,” McGonagall replied, “Miss Granger has always been a good student.”

Unknowingly, Snape scoffed. 

“Even you can’t deny her talent, Severus,” McGonagall sighed.

Sliding his wand back into his robes, Snape stood to leave, “I wasn’t.  As surprising as you may find it, Minerva, I only disagree because I believe your assessment to be a tragic understatement; Miss Granger is an excellent student.”

“I thought you said she was a know-it-all?”

“A statement I stand by,” Snape replied, “However true that may be, she is an excellent student – perhaps it’s the very attribute that makes her an excellent student.” 

“Who are you and what have you done with Severus Snape?” McGonagall gave a faint smile.

Snape frowned at her, “As it happens, Miss Granger has a standing punishment of detention, during which I’ve been forced into conversation with her, and it seems that she is simply a zealous student – perhaps over-zealous, I admit.”

 

_________________________

 

 

“Can this damn year go any bloody slower?” Ron griped to his friends.

Harry frowned, “It’s not even half over, Ron; why’re you so ready for it to end?”

His eyes darted around the room quickly before he said in a hushed tone, “I need to get a break from Lav; she’s driving me mental!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “You do know that she’ll be here next year, same as us, right?”

“Damn.  I forgot.”

“Why don’t you just tell her to bugger off?” Harry asked. 

Tearing off a huge bite of a licorice wand with his teeth, Ron shook his head, “Nah.  I like ‘er; I just want to like ‘er in a normal way, like regular people, not whatever this constant snogging is.”

Sighing, Hermione frowned, “You should be glad that the two of you can kiss in front of people – some of us don’t have that luxury.” 

“Some of _us_?” Harry questioned, “Who’re you talking about?”  He gave her a look to remind her that Ron didn’t know about Harry and Ginny.

“Oh.”

Ron swallowed his candy, “Yeah, Hermione; who’s ‘us’? When you’ve got detention with Snape, are you really snogging McLaggen?”

“What?  No.” Hermione had a heart attack in the millisecond between _snogging_ and _McLaggen_ – she had briefly thought Ron somehow knew what was really going on in her detentions.

 

_________________________

 

“Glad to see that you’ve arrived on time, my friend,” Voldemort commented when Snape entered the dining room of Malfoy Manor.

Snape gave a nod as he sat in a free chair several seats down from Lucius and his family. 

“Draco, it seems, has found a most suitable opportunity to _persuade_ someone to deliver Dumbledore his gift: the students make a visit to the Hogsmead village in a two month’s time.  He can finalize the purchase at Borgin & Burke’s and find someone to deliver the necklace.” 

Thoughtfully, Snape nodded again, “You will have to be very cunning for this to succeed, Draco.”

Glaring at his professor, the student snapped, “I don’t need your input.  I can get this done; when’s the last time _you_ did anything besides getting a senile old man to tell you things he doesn’t even know he’s saying?  When have you done anything that was actually dangerous?”

Snape narrowed his eyes at the teen, but remained silent.

 

_________________________

 

 

“Professor?” Hermione cautiously spoke during her detention that evening, “You seem very stressed; what’s wrong?”

Shaking his head slightly, Snape mumbled, “Nothing I need to concern you with.” 

Frowning a bit, Hermione sighed as she stood from the table she was seated at; she walked to her teacher, who was sitting in the chair behind his dark cherry wood desk.  Hermione furrowed her brow, “I think that there are enough secrets surrounding our…whatever this is; you don’t need to go adding more.”

“Relationship,” Snape said, “And I have to agree, but I’m afraid I cannot share this with you; I wish I could.”

She opened her mouth slightly before blinking a few times, “Relationship?”

The teacher raised his eyebrows, “Is that inaccurate?”

Hermione swallowed, “N – no…I guess not,” she paused. “Is there anything I can do?”

Snape held out his hand to her; Hermione took it and he pulled her to him, sliding his arm around her waist.  She let him tug her into his lap and wound her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder.  Hermione let Snape hold her in his lap for quite some time.

He broke the silence with a quiet comment, “I have to do something awful.” 

Hermione was flooded with an ominous feeling, almost positive that something serious was going on – it made her very nervous. She mumbled into his cloak, “What do you have to do?” 

His hand trailed from between her shoulder blades and onto the small of her back, “Something I’m afraid you will hate me for.”

Hermione lifted her head from him and looked into his coal eyes, “That’s not possible.”

Snape’s mouth turned slightly up; he gave her a light kiss.

_________________________

 

Two months had passed, and the students were enjoying their trip to Hogsmead.

Hermione took a sip of her butterbeer and frowned at Ron, who was making a fuss about Professor Snape yet again.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron, just leave it alone,” she scolded him from across the table at The Three Broomsticks.

Ron scowled at her briefly.

“Ah, Harry!  Miss Granger,” Slughorn approached the table the trio was seated at, “Lucky I ran into you two; I wanted to extend an invitation to the Christmas party I’ll be hosting next weekend.  I’m afraid some of the other students at my previous gatherings failed to impress. It’s Friday evening at six, if the two of you would like to come.” 

Harry smiled a little too enthusiastically, “Of course!”

Setting her mug down, Hermione nodded, “I’d be delighted.”

Slughorn gave a rather inebriated smile, “Splendid!” He looked at Ron, “Good to see you, Wallenby.”

Ron was surly for the remainder of their visit to the pub.

 

_________________________

 

A shriek came from Leanne Cabey, “I warned her not to touch it!” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched in horror as Katie Bell was lifted by an unknown force into the air, arms out by her sides, crucifixion style, her mouth open wide in a silent scream.

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth in shock at the sight before her, then froze to the spot she was standing on. 

“Get back, all of you,” Hagrid came rushing to the scene; he lifted Katie’s now limp body from the snow to carry her back to the school. Seeing Harry approach the package on the ground, which had clearly been the cause of Katie’s seizure-like fit, Hagrid gruffed, “Do not touch that, except by the wrappings.”

Hermione thought that, considering what whatever was in the brown paper had just done to a student, the half-giant should have warned them not to touch it **_at all_**.

 

 

 

The contents of the package turned out to be a necklace, which was now on a pedestal as it was inspected by McGonagall and Snape.

“What do you think?” McGonagall questioned her colleague. 

“I think Miss Bell is lucky to be alive,” Snape replied.

Harry enthusiastically asked, “She was cursed, wasn’t she? I know Katie; off the Quidditch pitch, she wouldn’t hurt a fly.  If she was delivering that to Dumbledore, she wasn’t doing it knowingly.”

McGonagall sighed, “Yes, Potter, she was cursed.”

“It was Malfoy,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“That is a very serious accusation, Potter.”

Snape looked at the boy, “Indeed. Your evidence?”

Harry replied, “I just know.”

“How convincing,” Snape said coldly, “But I’m afraid nothing can be proven simply by your _instincts_.” 

McGonagall glanced at Snape before addressing the students, “I suggest you go back to your dormitories, all of you.”

The three friends left without another word.

“Thank you, Severus,” McGonagall said, “Good evening.”

He gave a slight nod then swiftly strode down the corridors until he was only several yards behind the three Gryffindors, “Miss Granger,” he spoke, stopping the students.  They turned around to face him.

“Sir?” Hermione looked at him curiously.

“A word?”

The girl glanced at the two boys next to her then nodded, “Sure.”  Hermione walked to him.

“My office.”

Hermione followed Snape through the halls and to his classroom.

After the door had closed, the teacher approached her, anxious, “Did you touch the necklace?”

Hermione was confused, “No…”

“You’re certain?  Even by accident?”

“I’m certain.  What’s going on?”

Snape ignored her question, “The wrappings?”

She shook her head, “No,” she paused, “Oh, wait, yeah, I might have.”

“Might have?  Hermione; you must be certain,” he took her hand.

“Okay, well, I’m not; I might have accidentally touched the paper.  Why does it matter?”

“The spell that was placed on the necklace is one that sometimes leaves traces,” Snape explained, “Curse-residue, one could say; anything that comes in contact with the cursed item could possibly have it, and, while it won’t kill you, some have the capability to do severe damage.” 

She became slightly scared, “W – well…what does that mean?”

“It means you need a _luxuria praecavere_ potion.  It will prevent symptoms of any magic that lingered.  A vaccine.”

“Okay…do you have one of those?”

Snape rubbed his forehead, “I don’t know; I’ll look.”

He left and went into an alcove; Hermione heard what sounded like iron scraping.  She chewed her thumbnail nervously, waiting for her professor to return.

After five minutes, Hermione called, “Professor?” No response.

Ten minutes passed, and Snape had not come back. Hermione hesitantly stepped into the alcove, in search of Snape.  She saw that there was a large door with an iron bar latch that was slid back; that must have been what she had heard.  Hermione hesitantly pushed open the door and stepped into a small sitting room, “Professor?”

“In here,” Snape called from a room off to the side.

Hermione tentatively entered the area where Snape’s voice had originated; he was rifling through a cupboard, reading labels and shoving bottles out of the way. 

His back was to her, but Hermione could tell that he was very focused and determined by his voice, “My apologies; I thought I could quickly find it.”

Shrugging, Hermione said, “It’s okay. Thank you for looking.”

After a few more minutes of searching, Snape announced, “Here it is.”

Taking the vial from him, Hermione wrinkled her nose at the dirty green colored liquid.

Seeing her expression, Snape said, “Yes, it is very unpleasant.  I’ll fetch water.” He left the little room and returned a minute later, a small glass in hand.

“ _Aguamenti_ ,” Snape pointed his wand at the empty glass; it filled with water immediately. He handed the glass to her, “Best to drink the potion quickly.”

Hermione nodded, unstoppered the vial, and poured the potion into her mouth, nearly gagging at the flavor of moldy cheese and liver. She quickly followed the gross medicine with the water, chugging it, desperate to get the aftertaste out of her mouth.

Snape seemed to be amused by her expression of disgust and chuckled quietly.

She swallowed hard then tilted her head, “Shouldn’t Harry and Ron take some of that?”

“They were wearing mittens.”

“Oh, right.”  Hermione looked at the empty glass in her hand, which he had apparently gotten from a private kitchen, “Um…are these your chambers?”

“They are.”

She frowned at him teasingly, “Do I not get a tour? That seems rude.”

“The evening isn’t over, is it?” Snape pointed out, then strode out of the room, gesturing for her to follow. 

“You came in through this room – just a simple sitting area – ” he entered a small kitchen with mahogany counters and cabinets, “I imagine you’ve seen a kitchen.”

Hermione giggled.

Snape went into another room, the largest so far – his personal library – cherry wood shelves stocked with books were on every wall, and a leather chair sat in a corner. 

“Wow,” Hermione said, “I’d kill for this.”

The teacher silently looked at her and took her hand. Hermione instantly became very nervous; he had not shown her his bedroom yet, and she knew that was the next stop on the tour, and she was well-aware of what it meant that he had saved his bedroom until last.


	9. Not Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets to finish her tour of Snape's rooms. The final stop? His bedroom, where Snape makes a confession.

Hermione let Snape lead her through a simple oak door.

As he pushed it open, he spoke, “Last but certainly not least: the bedchambers.  I was not fond of the emerald and silver that is customary for the Head of Slytherin House, so I took the liberty of altering the standard décor a bit.”

Hermione gazed around the spacious room of her professor: the walls were a stone texture in deep green, a rich grey chaise lounge sat cattycorner, blocking in a gun-barrel silver lamp, a small black end table at the end of the lounge.  A rather plain armoire was against the adjacent wall in between two short bookcases, which were packed full.  There was a small bar against another wall, tumblers and decanters arranged neatly on the countertop.  A large forest green and grey area rug covered the majority of the stone floor in front of a nice sized fireplace, in which small, dying flames danced.  Hermione’s eyes fell to the large bed, which bore a muted black and green comforter, which complimented the deep grey headboard against the dark green wall; her stomach knotted nervously.

“I prefer this to the emerald and silver scheme; I don’t think that would suit you.” 

Snape nodded, “I wouldn’t think so.” 

Looking down at their laced fingers, Snape gave her hand a light squeeze before he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it. Hermione watched him as he removed his fingers from between hers to turn her hand over so he could bring his mouth to her wrist.  

Hermione gave a quiet groan, then said, “Professor – ”

“Severus.”

Hermione nodded silently then touched his cheek; Snape released her hand to place his on either side of her face as he kissed her slowly.  His sudden grabbing of her head sent Hermione off-balance; she stepped backward to regain her stance. Snape looked at her for a moment then placed his hands on her hips, his fingertips under the hem of her sweater. The girl lightly bit his lower lip as she felt his hands slide up her sides, pushing her top up. Snape stepped into her, pushing her legs against his bed; Hermione sat on the edge of it and gazed up at him. He pulled the sweater up over her head then removed his cloak.  She grasped his hands and tugged him in front of her; Hermione smiled faintly and unbuckled Snape’s belt – a much easier task at eye-level.  Watching his student, Snape swept her hair back from her face as she unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.  Hermione released his erection and ran her fingers over him; she wondered if Snape knew that he was quite a bit more endowed than was typical.  Hermione glanced up at his expression then took him in her mouth; Snape made a noise. She tried several methods, unsure of exactly how one was supposed to give oral sex, but Snape seemed pleased, especially when she let the majority of him into her mouth.

Running his fingers through the front of her hair, away from her face, Snape kissed Hermione’s forehead then her neck as then unbuttoned and removed his shirt before he laid her back on his bed. He looked down at her underneath him and sighed; she looked innocent and stunning.  Snape unhooked the front-closing bra she was wearing and admired her pert breasts once again. 

His hand grazed down from her chest and onto the waistband of her jeans; he unbuttoned the then said, "Up."

Hermione lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them down and off.  Snape ran his hand up her thigh and passionately kissed her mouth.  She felt his hand brush near her thigh then his fingers moved the side of her panties over and he touched her.  Kissing her jaw, Snape tugged her underwear down; Hermione kicked them the rest of the way off.  He urged her legs apart to feel her damp flesh once again, brushing his mouth over her neck. Snape stroked her, enjoying the quiet sighs and squeaks that his touch caused her to make.  Hermione kissed his lips, breathing heavily. Snape pushed his tongue into her mouth as he slid his fingers inside her; he groaned at the feel of her body. Hermione drew in a sharp breath before moaning loudly.

 

Snape kissed her thigh then ran his tongue over her; Hermione stroked his hair and whined at his skilled mouth. Returning to her neck, Snape's fingers brushed over her waist as he moved to between her legs. Hermione once again became nervous - his fingers were not even half of what she was about to experience.

"Hermione, we don't have to – ”

"I know," she replied quietly, "I want to."

Snape kissed her lips softly once, then began to push himself inside her; Hermione bit her lip.  He moved his mouth to her collarbone as he entered her, closing his eyes, amazed by how wonderful she felt around him; he ducked his head into her chest as he continued to move within her.  Hermione sighed and started rolling her hips with his. Snape moved his hand down her stomach to massage the bead between her legs. 

The student was panting in his ear, calling on divinities between ragged breaths.  Snape felt accomplished knowing that he was pleasing her.

"Severus," Hermione breathed.

Snape smiled to himself; she had never called him that. 

Returning his mouth to hers, Snape pushed himself deeper into her, now that he could be less cautious with her. Hermione didn't seem to mind this at all; she pulled him closer to her and a minute later, her entire body tensed.

Keeping his actions consistent, Snape looked down at the girl; Hermione's face relaxed and her eyes closed as she began to tremble beneath him, emitting a very loud moan. 

Snape continued his motions, gazing down at Hermione, watching her expression of bliss.  She slowly began to calm and Snape brought his thumb to her cheek; her eyes lazily opened. 

His movements became more stiff and rhythmic as he kissed Hermione's lips desperately; he shuddered and groaned, then remains still before kissing his student once again.  Snape rolled off of her and they lay there, glistening with sweat and breathing heavily.  Her head tucked into his neck, Hermione realized that she hadn't noticed his Dark Mark until just then; she traced the skull and snake tattoo with her fingers absentmindedly.

"Pretty sure that you'd be sacked and I'd be expelled if anyone knew about this,” Hermione commented, amusement in her voice.

Snape softly kissed her neck and drug his lips down over her stomach, softly kissing her, "Lets not worry about that; not tonight." 

He grazed his fingertips down the side of her waist and murmured into her skin,

"Hermione Granger, I'm in love with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know; it's a rather short chapter; I apologize. I don't really like to write lengthy bedroom encounters.


	10. Patronuses and Death Eaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape encounters a potentially compromising situation in his DADA class, and learns that the Death Eater's plans are even more horrific than he ever imagined.

"What did Snape want?"  Ron asked Hermione over breakfast.

"He just thought that Katie and I were friends and wanted to know if she had been acting weird or anything," Hermione lied.

"You didn't come back, though," Harry said.

After faltering for a moment, Hermione sighed, "I went to the library after and was working on the paper Slughorn assigned; I didn't get to bed until about three this morning."

Truthfully, she hadn't come back at all, but had fallen asleep in Snape's bed to the sound of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Hermione smiled to herself, the night replaying in her mind and the touch of Snape's fingers when he had traced them down her arm that morning to wake her, brushing his lips on hers; she couldn't think of a better way to start a day.

"Oh," Ron conceded, “Guess that makes sense."

Harry frowned at the girl, “But I mean, how long did it take for you to tell Snape that you didn’t know Katie?”

Hermione fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater, “Oh, just a minute, but then he said that if I had touched the wrapping on the package, I could have gotten some…I don’t know what he called it, but basically, some magic can linger in things it touches, and if I had touched the paper, it could have transferred some of the residual magic to me – which would make me very sick – so he said I should take a potion to prevent that.  Snape made it, and that took about an hour, so…yeah.”

Harry gave her a skeptical look then shrugged.  The three friends headed to Slughorn’s classroom. 

Although she had originally been frustrated with Harry for using the Advanced Potion Making textbook that had alterations to the recipes and techniques – it seemed too much like cheating to her – Hermione decided to just let Harry do what he wanted; she was determined to be there with an _‘I told you so’_ if he got in trouble for it, though. She was, however, very curious as to who The Half-Blood Prince was…

“Don’t you care at all whose that book was?” she asked him on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry shrugged, “Not really.”

“Why should he be?” Ron asked, “If it’s helping him, who cares who this ‘Prince’ guy was?”

Hermione didn’t respond.

The trio entered Snape’s classroom; only Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown, and Pansy Parkinson were in the room, for they were a bit early.

Before the three friends were two paces inside the room, Lavender squealed at the sight of Ron and jumped up.

“Oh bloody hell,” Ron sighed.

The girl rushed over to him, flinging her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth to his.

“Miss Brown,” Snape approached, “Do you really think that behavior is appropriate? I don’t see anyone else insisting on such a display.”

“No sir, but neither of _them_ ,” Lavender looked at the two seated girls, “Is going to kiss Harry.”

Harry looked offended, “Hey!”

“Return to your seat, Miss Brown.”  Snape gave an irritated sigh, “You three, sit.”

Ron ducked his head in shame and skirted around Snape. 

Hermione looked up at her teacher, “Good morning, sir.”

Snape asked, “Are you feeling well, Miss Granger?”

She swallowed and nodded, stunned that he had dared ask in front of others, “Yes sir, thank you; the antidote you gave me last night was wonderful.” Hermione smirked slyly at him.

The corner of Snape’s mouth turned up.

After the rest of the students arrived, Snape instructed that they read three chapters on Dementors. 

Once they had completed the reading, Snape assigned them four rows of parchment on the origins, history, appearance, effects of Dementors, speaking sharply, “While reading text is helpful; you will each practice the Patronus Charm, attempting to produce a full-bodied one in our next class.”

Thanks to Dumbledore’s Army the year prior, a third of the students could cast the charm rather well, and were therefore not concerned about having to make their first attempt in front of the teacher.

 

_________________________

 

 

“You wished to see me, Headmaster?” Snape spoke once he was in Dumbledore’s office.

The old wizard did not stand from where he was seated behind his desk, “Yes, Severus. Do come in. And close the door behind you.”

Doing as he was instructed, Snape was filled with dread and became slightly nervous; he turned his back to Dumbledore to close the office door, preparing and fortifying the barriers of his mind before he looked at the Headmaster.

The men stared at each other for several moments in silence.

Snape grumbled, “I do not have time to attempt to guess what you want to discuss, Albus.”

“Sit.”

“I’d prefer to stand,” Snape replied.

“I’d prefer you sit.”

Refusing to take the small chair in front of the Headmaster’s desk, Snape merely raised his eyebrows in expectation of a discussion.

“Severus,” Dumbledore gazed at Snape over his half-moon glasses, “I sense that you are having second thoughts regarding our…arrangement. I’m merely curious as to what is causing you to reconsider, and to remind you that you agreed.”

Through gritted teeth, Snape snarled, “I did, but am I forbidden to change my response?”

“Of course not, my friend,” Dumbledore spoke calmly, “But need I remind you what the results of that would be? Should Draco fail in his duty, and you do not take over, the Unbreakable Vow that you made with Narcissa will kill you, and if Draco should happen to have a change of heart, the result would be the same.”

“You’ve conveniently failed to mention that Mister Malfoy may succeed.”

“Ah, yes, but you are aware of what toll killing takes on the soul; would you really force Draco to damage his soul in such a way?”

“And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?”

The Headmaster did not respond.

“As it so happens,” Snape hissed, “Draco _volunteered_ to murder you; I did not.  And I will not.  Find someone else." 

“You know that’s impossible.”

Snape raised his eyebrows, “I don’t see how that is my concern.”

There was a long, empty silence before Dumbledore sighed, “Severus, may I ask you a question?”

“I doubt my objection would prevent your asking.”

“I know that you were reluctant to agree to this plan originally, but you now seem to be determined to oppose it; what has changed?”

After hesitating for several moments, Snape quietly asked “What would she think of me, Albus, if I did this?”

Dumbledore frowned, “I’m sure that she would know that it was all to protect her son.”

“Not – ” Snape started, nearly correcting Dumbledore’s assumption that he was concerned about Lily Potter’s opinion rather than that of his most infuriating student.

 

 

_________________________

 

 

“I hope each of you are prepared to try your hand at the Patronus charm,” Snape said to his class of thirty or so Sixth Year students – the last class of the day – the following week.

The class stood; Snape flicked his wand, pushing all of the desks against the walls so that the students had room to practice, “Think of what brings you the most joy, focus intently on it, and, when it has consumed you, speak the incantation, _Expecto Patronum._ Do not hold your wands lazily, as some of you so often do, for, should you by some miracle succeed in casting a strong enough shield to create a form, you will have to retain a firm grip on your wands as it is expelled from it.”

Those that hadn’t been in Dumbledore’s Army struggled, but nearly were able to cast shields, while most of the members of the rebellious club could cast at least silvery-smoky outlines of a body.  Snape strolled between the students, eyeing their progress and snapping at them to hold their wands in a different way.

Hermione was at the edge of the classroom, her otter Patronus playfully swimming around her.  Snape watched her for a moment as she laughed and turned in a circle to watch it dance in the air; he faintly smiled. 

Clearing his throat quietly, Snape came to her, “Miss Granger, your Patronus is acceptable, however, I notice that it is fading slightly at the edges; soon it won’t be able to swim about.  Your wand grip is improper.”

Hermione looked at him, “I – I’m sorry, sir.  How should I be holding it?”

“The appropriate wand grip was described in your reading.”

“Oh,” Hermione blushed and gave him a mischievous smirk, “I can't seem to remember; I’m sorry. I don’t know the right way to hold it; could you show me?”

Snape glanced around the room to see that the students were all practicing the spell, most casting small shields, some full-bodied Patronuses; satisfied that they were too focused on the task to pay attention to what he was doing, Snape nodded and approached Hermione.

Placing his hand atop hers, Snape folded her fingers into the proper position before stepping back to let her cast the charm again.  The otter was still diminishing somewhat; Snape frowned before observing, “Your posture is incorrect; one cannot cast a powerful spell if they are not sturdy in their stance.”

He came to stand behind her; Snape slid his fingers over her shoulders and squared them, “Feet apart; you need a sturdy foundation.”

Hermione shifted to stand with her feet shoulder-width apart; she looked down at her feet to judge her stance.  Snape’s hand came from behind her, his fingers moved to under her face and lifted it, “Head up, Miss Granger,” he let his touch brush against her neck as he pulled his hand back; Hermione swallowed loudly.  Snape found it quite thrilling to be touching her when they were not alone; he grazed his hand from her neck and down her side, causing Hermione to shiver.

“It’s very important,” his hands lay on her hips, “to stand up straight.” Snape pulled her hips slightly back, to where she was against his body.  “Try the spell again,” he quietly instructed into her ear.

“Expe – Expecto Patronum!”  Only a few silver wisps came from her wand; _Snape was distracting her!_

“Tsk tsk, Miss Granger; perhaps your stance is still incorrect,” Snape tugged her hips back against him, “Try again.”

Deciding to give up on the Patronus charm for the day, Hermione let her focus stray from the trips to Shaftesbury Avenue with her parents and to her night with Snape a week prior. 

“Hermione,” Snape spoke softly at her ear, “The spell?" 

The girl nodded, “Right; sorry…Expecto Patronum!”  An otter burst forth from her wand.

“Very, very good.”

Hermione sighed, “Especially with you doing your best to distract me!”

His eyes flitting briefly around the room, again looking for any spectators, Snape brought his hand to her neck again, brushing his fingertips on her skin, “No, that was hardly my best,” he pulled her hips firmly backward against his pelvis; Hermione whined in her throat when she felt that he was stiff. She cursed herself for being such a trollop, but Hermione hardly thought it was her fault that she wanted Snape every time she saw him, especially considering that he was currently pressing his solid member against her. 

The period ended and the class left, Hermione giving a swift line to Harry and Ron about her having to ask Snape a question. 

She rounded on the teacher, only halfway-seriously scolding him, “What are you trying to do, Professor?  Lose your job? Get me expelled?”

“Certainly neither,” Snape replied, “Just having a bit of fun. Teasing.”

She sighed, “Well, no one likes a tease that doesn’t deliver.” Hermione smirked at him.

Snape spoke very quietly, “But I intend to do so, Miss Granger.”  He pressed himself against her once again before turning toward the door leading to his chambers, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at her as he disappeared within.

Not wanting to seem too eager, Hermione counted slowly to fifty before she followed him. After walking through his sitting area and library, Hermione found her professor, sans cloak, on his bed, leaning back against the headboard, reading.  She watched him for a minute or two, surprised he hadn’t noticed her. She slipped off her sneakers then climbed onto the bed next to him; sitting back on her knees, Hermione slid the book out of his hands, set it on the bedside table, then sat in his lap, straddling him and passionately kissing his lips.

Snape’s hands ran down her sides as she nibbled his lip.  Hermione unbuttoned the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt to brush her fingers over his forearms.  She pushed the left sleeve up enough to reveal his Dark Mark and grazed her fingers over it; Snape watched her looking at the evidence that he was a member of a club that targeted people like her.  Hermione sighed as she watched her fingers moving on the tattoo.

“Hermione?” Snape frowned and pushed her hair out of her face, “Hermione, I – ”

The girl shook her head, “Don’t.  I don’t care,” Hermione leaned over, lifted his arm, and lightly kissed the skull tattoo, “It doesn’t matter.”

Snape was rendered speechless; this Muggle-born girl had just said that she didn’t care, that it didn’t matter that he was part of a group of wizards who hated, tortured, and killed people like her. 

He watched her softly kissing his arm and tracing the tattoo for a minute before he barely whispered, “Why? Why doesn’t it matter?”

Lifting her eyes to him, Hermione spoke against his tattoo, “Don’t be stupid.”

Snape furrowed his brow, “Hermione?”

She stopped bathing his arm in kisses and looked at him, “I said ‘don’t be stupid’; you know why it doesn’t matter.”  Hermione unbuttoned the top several buttons of his shirt, running her hands over his chest as she scraped her teeth on his neck.

“And that is because…?”

“You really don’t know?  You don’t know that I love you?  I thought you were smarter than that.” 

Snape grabbed her face in his hands and attacked her mouth with his; sighing, Hermione relaxed against him to find that he was once again bearing a firm member. She was very glad when he released her face to run his hands up her thighs and under her skirt. Snape wasted no time; he immediately moved her panties aside and pushed his digits inside her well-prepared body, his hand becoming soaked in her arousal. 

“Jesus,” Snape breathed against her mouth, “I really _was_ distracting you.”

Hermione nodded as she rode his hand, kissing him passionately. 

Snape grunted as he slid his fingers entirely into her, exploring Hermione’s body deeper. He pulled her shirt off with his other hand and unclasped her bra. 

Removing his hand from between her legs, Snape growled, “Stand up.”

Hermione stood at the edge of his bed and watched as Snape unbuckled his belt and removed his pants.  He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled her to him, holding her outer thighs, tugged her skirt off and peeled her panties down; they returned to lie on the bed.

Taking her hands in his, Snape moved her closer to him; Hermione straddled him once again. Fingertips lightly on her hips, Snape guided her down onto him; the student moaned quietly.  Snape kissed Hermione’s neck as she began to move her pelvis, riding him smoothly.  He groaned, running his hands over her back, cupping her breasts, and grazing along her thighs. Snape lay back, watching her body gyrate and rock.  His hand grasped her breast while the other rested on the small of her back. 

“You are gorgeous,” Snape husked, breathing ragged and labored.

He ran his hand up between her shoulder blades and sat up, growling, “Come here.”

Hermione rolled her hips and rocked against him, feeling him moving inside her. She moaned his name and gasped for air. Snape took her nipple in his mouth and softly suckled, looking up at her.

Her fingertips, still resting on the tattoo at his forearm suddenly felt as though they were on fire; Snape winced.

“Damn. I have to go,” Snape said, “I’m so sorry, so _unbelievably_ sorry. I – I have to go. I can’t believe I have to go, **now** , of all times, but I do.”

Hermione got out of her teacher’s lap, nodding, “I know.”

He hurriedly put his robes back on as Hermione stepped back into her skirt and hooked her bra. Snatching her top from the floor, Snape pulled it back over her head, then used a hand behind her neck to get her hair out of the shirt.

He quickly kissed the girl’s lips, “I am so sorry, Hermione; I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

The pair rushed out of the dungeons and into the main hall of the castle.

“Be careful, Severus, please.”

“Of course,” Snape nodded.

Hermione squeezed his hand and stood on her toes to give him a swift kiss.

 

_________________________

 

 

“I see you’ve finally learned the value of punctuality, Severus,” Voldemort commented before looking at Malfoy, “Last you told us, Draco, you had in place a plan to give Dumbledore a cursed necklace; I would ask how it went, but as we’ve heard nothing of a dead headmaster, I am forced to assume not well. Why?”

“Well, the stupid girl, Katie, didn’t keep it wrapped – she touched it. So she had a fit and was taken to the hospital, and it never made it to Dumbledore,” Draco replied.

Voldemort hissed impatiently then asked, “So where is it?  What happened to this necklace?”

Shrugging, the boy said, “I dunno.  I mean, I think they must’ve destroyed it, but I’m not sure; I – I’m sorry.”

“Draco, you are remarkably like your father when it comes to reliability,” Voldemort gave a derisive sigh, “Neither of you seem to be capable of fulfilling a duty. How do you think I should take care of this matter?”

Draco went even paler than usual; Voldemort had killed for less than what he had done. Panicking, he stammered, “All I know is it was inspected, analyzed.  Ask Snape; he’s the one who did it.”

“Oh?” the hateful wizard’s gaze fell to Snape.

Nodding once, Snape responded, “I did.”

“And? What was done with it?”

“I – I’m afraid I don’t know,” Snape admitted.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Voldemort questioned, “How could you not know? Did you have something more important to do than to follow my instructions?”

Before Snape could prevent it, Voldemort was inside his head, searching for the evening in question.

Snape watched his memories play out in his mind: _he was sitting in his office, grading papers…a House Elf brought him tea…he was scratching lesson plans onto a chart…McGonagall’s owl flew in and dropped a note on his desk…Snape was rushing through corridors…_

Snape could feel Voldemort’s frustration with the uneventful memory.

_He was striding quickly down a hallway…McGonagall called out to him…he stood in front of a pedestal on which the opal necklace lay…three students watched on…_

Snape felt rather than heard, Voldemort’s scoff, ‘The Irritating Scarheaded Orphan Who Keeps Escaping’

_The woman professor was questioning the Boy Who Refuses to Die, his red-haired idiot of a friend and a girl… The Boy Who Refuses to Die accused Malfoy…Snape was ridiculing the Boy…the students were leaving…Snape was leaving…_

 

“I daresay you spoke very little in way of defending young Malfoy here, Severus,” Voldemort spoke, without exiting Snape’s memory, “Why did you not stay and collect more information about what was to be done with the necklace?”

 

_Snape was rummaging through a cabinet of potions…_ Snape knew where this memory headed, and desperately tried to shove the Dark Lord out of it.

 

“Why is this memory one you don’t want me to see?” Voldemort asked.

 

_Snape was in his library with the female student from earlier…Snape stood at the edge of his bed while the girl sat on the bed and unzipped his pants…_

“Oh, dear, Severus,” Voldemort raised his eyebrow, “What is this?”

 

_The girl was licking and sucking on Snape…he removed her shirt and climbed on top of her…he slid his fingers into the girl…Snape was tasting her…then he was inside her…_

“This girl,” The Dark Lord said, “She is a student?”

Snape didn’t respond, but Voldemort had seen enough to know that he was right.

“I hope you have given her grades a boost…”

Snape’s silence spurred another question, “Or was she…inadequate?”

“N – No, My Lord,” Snape replied.

The other Death Eaters were all looking on in confusion.

“It seems unfair, Severus, my friend,” Voldemort spoke, “A favor should always be returned.”

“What’s goin’ on down there?” Fenrir Greyback asked from the other end of the long table.

Slapping Snape’s back as though he were proud of him, Voldemort said, “It seems Snape has found an _extracurricular_ activity…Apparently, he has taken a student to bed. And I was under the impression that you were unlucky when it came to women.  Although, it is easier, I’m sure, to find a partner when you’re giving them better grades…”

The Death Eaters seemed impressed by Snape’s conquest and, at the same time, amused by the implication that he had to bribe women to sleep with him.

“There is no need to increase her grade,” Snape said, “It just so happens that she is top of not only her class, but of the entire year; her grades cannot possibly be raised.”

“Granger?!” Malfoy exclaimed, “You slept with _Granger?_ The know-it-all?  Are we talking about the same girl?  The Mudblood?”

Voldemort took his hand from Snape’s back as though he was diseased and looked at him in disbelief, “You took Mudblood filth to bed?  Is this true, Severus?”

Snape hated himself for what he was about to say, but Hermione’s life depended on his response, “I did.  I slept with her. I have lain with the girl, My Lord, but I assure you it was merely a tactic to gain information.”

Fenrir asked, “So are you saying you took no pleasure in it?”

“Of course he isn’t!” Yaxley said, “He’s a man, right?  She’s a woman – well, girl – and a man likes to fuck any woman, Mudblood or not, it don’t matter; she’s just a hole to fuck, isn’t she? And a tight one I bet…what is she? Sixteen?  Fifteen?”

Amycus Carrow joined in, “The younger, the better, to be honest. You got a First Year girl to fuck up at Hogwarts?  I’d be very interested to _meet_ her when we invade the castle at the end of the year, very interested…”

“Are you implying that I have had intimate relations with an eleven year old, Carrow?” Snape spat, disgusted, “And did you ask me if you could _meet_ her? – and I’m certain of what you mean when you say _meet_.”

Amycus laughed condescendingly, “I’m sure you don’t know what I mean, Severus; as a matter of fact, I doubt you’ve even heard of some of the things I’ll do to her.”

Snape swallowed the bitter anger rising up in his chest and said dismissively, “My apologies, Carrow; she is _not_ a First Year. She is in Draco’s year – sixth; I’m guessing that makes her too old for you.”

Sneering, Carrow replied, “No, Severus, I said I _prefer_ the little ones, not that I wouldn’t defile an older one just the same, because I would…and believe me, I will.”

Snape didn’t doubt Amycus even the slightest; he was as cruel as Voldemort, but preferred different methods of torture than The Dark Lord. Snape had to keep Hermione safe, but he had no clue how he was going to manage that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit risqué, in action and dialogue, but the topic in the dialogue is necessary for later chapters.


	11. A New Kind of Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix shows off a new spell she has created, and Snape realizes how desperately he needs to protect his know-it-all student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for hanging in there! It turned out that my rib wasn't ACTUALLY broken, just very severely bruised; I'm so glad that I can now sit at my computer to write. 
> 
> I apologize for being a klutz and injuring myself. I should now be able to update regularly once again.

“As entertaining as this discussion may be to you, there are other matters we need to address,” Voldemort interrupted the conversation between Amycus and Severus. The Dark Lord then turned his gaze to the dark-haired female attendee, “Bellatrix has been developing a new curse, one that she claims will be worse than the _Cruciatus Curse_.  If I'm not mistaken, it should be nearly complete, am I correct?"

 

Her eyes filled with malice and Bellatrix nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, My Lord; in fact, I'd like you to see what it can do." 

"I assume you need a _subject_ on which to test this spell?"

"If one’s available," Bellatrix replied.

Snape watched The Dark Lord’s eyes skim along those at the table, obviously considering which of his followers he was going to allow Bellatrix to demonstrate the power of her spell upon.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort snapped; the plump, cowardly Death Eater visibly began to tremble.

Luckily for Peter, The Dark Lord continued, "Go to the cellar and bring up our guest, quickly." 

Wormtail scurried out of the dining room and returned a minute later, pointing his stubby wand at a middle-aged woman with short, brown hair. 

"I present to you Miss Eloise Finch, mother of a Mudblood student currently in his third year at Hogwarts," Voldemort spoke as calmly as though he were chatting about the weather.  "Now, now Eloise, there's no need to be rude; you are a in guest in this house, and after all.  You could at least pay the Malfoys a compliment about their home.”

Eloise gave a weak nod, "Right.  Of course. Your house is lovely.”

Voldemort smirked and, never taking his eyes off Eloise, nodded once, "Go ahead, Bella."

“ _defaeco neam crux sano_!" Bellatrix’s voice was filled with snappy hatred as she flicked her wand at Eloise.

The woman screamed in pain, violently twitched, then collapsed. She continued to convulse as a line cut into the inside of her elbow to send blood streaming down her forearm. A second gash was drawn down her neck, the deep red liquid pouring from the wound; her breathing became shallow and erratic as she began sweating profusely, seizing uncontrollably.  Eloise was dying.  Just when Snape thought that she had no more life within her, Eloise gasped several times as she continued to viciously jerk; Snape noticed that the two wounds seemed to have stopped bleeding.  She had very little of a reprieve, however, for a red stain soon grew on the fabric of her yellow flowered house dress, indicating she was bleeding badly from her abdomen; Eloise Finch shrieked.  Another slice was opened on her thigh, blood surging from it in time to her steadily slowing heartbeat. 

At some point, Eloise found the breath to hoarsely beg, “Please.  Any of you.  Please make this stop.”

Voldemort’s eyes had no trace of sympathy as he watched the Muggle woman bleeding out on the floor.  Instead, he smirked and addressed Bellatrix again, “Wonderful.  What is this?”

Bellatrix was ecstatic that Voldemort was pleased, “It’s an updated version of the Cruciatus Curse.  It’s still agonizing, but it also pairs bloodletting with a healing charm; they bleed to death, but never die.  I think it will be very effective in getting information out of them." 

The Dark Lord nodded, “Not to mention the entertainment it provides. Excellent work, Bellatrix.” He watched Eloise Finch for a minute before he seemed content and pointed his wand at her, “ _Avada Kedavra_.”  She instantly stilled. 

 

“I believe it would be in our favor to assess the situation at the school prior to our final attack; you can all practice Bella’s spell, and capture a few Mudbloods to get information about their parents.  What do you say, Saturday?  Severus, would this be an opportune time?” 

Snape gulped, “I don’t see why an assessment is necessary, My Lord.”

“To gain information regarding Mudblood’s parents, of course. I daresay you will not be able to seduce all the Mudbloods.”

“I’ve actually only acquired information concerning Potter,” Snape said, “I doubt any would reveal any about their parentage.”

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes, “No?  Well, then I suppose we’ll just have to let Amycus _coax_ that out of her."

“I won’t let you down, My Lord,” Amycus promised, “I can get it out of her. Funny enough, I can get it out of her by putting something else in her.  Definitely.”

Snape had to use every ounce of restraint he had within himself not to dive over the table to attack Amycus with his bare hands; he took a breath to calm his anger and responded, “I will try again, My Lord; I believe she will tell me.”

“I thought that you previously said that you doubted any student would reveal to you information about their blood status,” The Dark Lord frowned, “No, Severus, let Amycus do it.”

 

* * *

  

“Damn you, you inexorable woman!  I am a professor at this school, and I am demanding that you let me in!” Snape snarled at The Fat Lady.

“Not without the password, Potions Master,” The Fat Lady shook her head, “You must abide by the rules yourself if you expect the pupils to do so.”

“Exigent circumstances; it is an emergency,” Snape snapped, “Let. Me. In.”

“Incorrect password, Professor; sorry.”

The teacher sighed heavily, then cleared his throat, “Madam Spriggs, I apologize for shouting.  I would be most grateful if you were to allow me into Gryffindor Tower; please. Might I add that you are looking quite stunning this evening.”

The Fat Lady blushed at his flattery, looked the Professor over incredulously then nodded once, “That’s more like it; in you go.” 

“Thank you, Madam,” he said before heading into the Gryffindor common room.

The warmly lit maroon and gold common area was empty, but for five students – two couples were seated on different sofas, kissing their partners, while another was seated cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace inspecting a _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_. Snape recognized the dark, messy hair of Potter, who was currently part of an amorous embrace with the red-haired sister of his best friend.  Snape cleared his throat loudly; Ron and Lavender jumped away from one another as Neville’s face filled with fear.

“Professor Snape!”  Ginny exclaimed before stammering, “We were just…ah – studying.”

Snape narrowed his coal eyes at the girl, “Indeed.  As it happens, I don’t currently care what activity you were involved in.”

“What are you doing here, then?” Harry demanded.

Giving the boy a brief glare, Snape spoke, “I am a Professor at Hogwarts; I am allowed wherever I please.  At this moment, I am looking for Miss Granger.”

“Oh, she’s already in bed, sir,” Ginny replied.

The professor frowned, “Miss Weasley, please go wake Miss Granger and send her down.”

The girl jumped immediately up and hurried to the girls’ dormitory.

A moment later, Lavender stood, following Ginny with a quiet comment about being sleepy 

 

As Neville had scurried off to a table in the far corner, only Ron, Harry, and Snape were left in the center of the common room.

“What’s this about?” the Weasley boy asked.

Snape raised his eyebrows, “I don’t see how that is your concern.”

Harry stood angrily, “Sure it’s our concern; she’s our friend!”

“We’re more than friends, actually,” Ron added.

“I beg your pardon, Mister Weasley?” Snape’s eyes snapped to the boy, “I thought it was Miss Brown with whom you were entangled only moments ago, not Miss Granger.”

Ron glared at the teacher, who was now focused on the student he had come to retrieve as she hurried down the stairs, still in her pajamas.

 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, panicked, as she entered the common room, “Professor?”

Looking down at her, Snape sighed, “I must insist you accompany me, Miss Granger." 

“Great,” Harry said, “We’ll go, too; right, Ron?”

Ron stood, although hesitantly, and nodded, “Right.”

“I don’t recall inviting either of you,” Snape said, placing his hands behind his back, taking Hermione’s hand in his; he firmly held it, rubbing his thumb over the back of it, glad that his billowy robes hid this from view. Hermione looked up at Snape.

“N – no, you didn’t,” Harry retorted, “but we’re coming; she needs someone to protect her.”

"I agree, Mr. Potter, but not from me," Snape frowned.

"Says who?"  Ron asked.

The professor's eyes narrowed at the boy, "Says me." 

"Yeah, but _you_ could hurt her," Harry snapped.

"Or…" Ron said, "You could… _touch_ her." 

Hermione spoke, "Oh, Ronald, don't be ridiculous!" 

Snape turned to exit the common room, Hermione at his side.

"Madam, please do not permit Harry Potter or any Weasley from leaving this tower until morning," Snape said to The Fat Lady.

 

"Severus," Hermione asked as the pair sped down the hall, "Please explain what's going on."

Snape rushed through the corridor, "You have to leave the castle immediately."

"What's going on?"  Hermione asked in a panicked voice.

"At the meeting, I learned exactly what they are planning to do to Muggle-Born students, and their intentions for you are even worse," The pair had reached the doors to the castle; Snape pushed open the door and pulled Hermione out onto the grounds, “Where do you live?"

Hermione gave him an odd look. 

"Your parents; where do they live?"

"Oh, Leeds. Hyde Terrace.  LS2,” Hermione panted, “Why? Is that where we’re going?”

Snape nodded, “I’m taking you there.”

“How long? How long do I have to stay there?”

They were out of the Hogwarts grounds gate; Snape tightened his grip on her hand and turned on the spot.  Rushing wind engulfed them briefly before they appeared on Hyde Terrace just outside the Granger residence.

Tucking a piece of hair that had been blown about when they Apparated behind her ear, Snape looked at Hermione, “I don’t know; I can’t be sure.”

Nodding solemnly, Hermione sighed, “You will come back for me, right?”

“I swear it,” the professor kissed Hermione’s forehead, watched her walk up the steps to her house and open the door quietly. 

She turned to look back at him, giving a feeble smile, then went inside and closed the door.

Snape took out his wand and cast secrecy and protection charms on the home before Apparating back to Hogwarts, thinking how torturous it would be to be away from Hermione for an indefinite time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I have no clue where the address I used for the Grangers is in England, or who lives there. I Googled "addresses in England" and that one looked like it was a house rather than a business, so I used it. 
> 
> PLEASE RESIST THE URGE TO GO TO THIS HOUSE IN SEARCH OF A DENTIST :P


	12. Hyde Terrace, LS2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione struggles with being separated from Snape, causing her parents to become worried.

Hermione woke, groggy and disoriented in her twin bed at around noon; she groaned and pulled the blue comforter up around her shoulders, bundling herself in the blankets. She buried her face in the feather pillow and was immersed in the scent of jasmine and vanilla; Hermione’s chocolate eyes snapped open.  Glancing around her surroundings, still huddled amongst her blanket, Hermione realized that she was in her bedroom at her parents’ house, not in her dormitory at Hogwarts. 

“Damn,” Hermione sighed; it hadn’t been a dream.  She tossed around in bed, struggling to disentangle herself from the cocoon she had created.  After escaping from her quilted restraints, Hermione straightened her pajama shirt and pulled her cotton shorts back on before emerging from the bedroom.  She slowly walked downstairs, rubbing her eyes. When she turned to enter the kitchen, Hermione remembered that she hadn’t woken her parents when she had arrived in the middle of the night; Jeanine Granger dropped the scone she had been about to take a bite of, “Hermione!  What – what on earth are you doing here?” 

The girl frowned slightly, “Nice to see you, too, Mum.”

“Hermione?” her dad turned around in his chair, “Jean, dear, would a ‘hello’ have given you a stroke?”

“Hi dad.”

Jeanine shot her husband a stern look, “For heaven’s sake, Thomas, I was startled; she’s just shown up in the middle of the night, apparently – any concerned mother would worry what was wrong,” She jumped up from the table, rushed to her daughter, and immediately began fussing over her, “Oh, sweetie, what’s happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt?  You look like you’ve been crying; have you been crying?” Jeanine held Hermione’s face in her hands, surveying her for injury.

“I’m fine, Mum,” Hermione gently moved from her mother’s worrisome grasp, “To answer you: so much; yes; no; yes; I had to leave.”

Thomas looked thoughtful for a moment as he put a question to each of her answers; he frowned, “Why did you have to leave, darling?” 

Quickly deciding that she shouldn’t worry her parents, Hermione shrugged, “I suppose I didn’t _have_ to, but I was going a bit stir crazy.” 

Her parents’ faces relaxed considerably.

“Couldn’t you have told us?  I’d have prepared supper,” Mrs. Granger asked. 

The girl shook her head, “It all happened so quickly; I didn’t even know – I mean, it was an impulse.”

Mr. Granger gave an inquisitive look, “How in the world did you get here? You haven’t learned to Appairite yet, have you?” 

“ _Apparate_ ,” Hermione corrected, “And no.  A professor brought me.”  She then sighed, wondering when she would see Snape again.

“How lovely,” Jeanine smiled, “You should invite them to tea; I think I’d very much like to express my gratitude; wouldn’t you agree, Thomas?”

Mr. Granger nodded, “Of course; you should extend an invitation, Hermione. We’d do it ourselves, but I can never get those hawks to take a letter.”

Hermione shook her head, amused that her father still didn’t know that not just any bird would deliver mail. “He has a very busy schedule; I don’t think he would be able to come anytime soon,” she sighed, wishing he were free to visit whenever he liked. 

“Hermione, darling, what’s wrong?” Hermione’s mother had noticed her sigh of despair.

“Oh,” she shook her head to remind herself she shouldn’t reveal any more about her connection to Snape than was absolutely necessary.

“Have you had lunch yet?” she asked, attempting to direct the conversation elsewhere. 

Thomas shook his head, “Your mother has been rather lax with preparing meals while you’ve been at school; I may have to trade her in,” he teased his wife, but patted her hand lovingly. 

“You know where the kitchen is; you are free to do your own cooking, mister.”

Hermione eyed her father, “It doesn’t look as though you’ve been missing many meals.” 

“Hermione Granger!” her mother scolded, but Thomas gave his belly several pats, chortling, “Oh, Jean, you know I’m not the strapping lad you married; you’ve kept me well-fed.”

 

“I’ll make you a sandwich, sweetheart,” Mrs. Granger said, “Tom, fetch a bag of crisps for her, will you?”

“I’m on it,” Mr. Granger hopped up and hurried to the pantry as his wife began to build Hermione a ham and roast beef sandwich.  He returned quickly and set the bag on the small dining table. 

Hermione sat, “Thanks so much; I feel as though I haven’t slept in ages.” 

As soon as her mother had sliced the sandwich in half, she set it in front of Hermione, who lazily opened the crisps and ate her lunch sluggishly; Jeanine and Thomas exchanged a concerned look. 

 

After she had eaten, which took nearly forty minutes at her glacial pace, Hermione gulped down the large glass of water her mother had set beside her plate. Clutching the huge glass with both of her hands, she closed her eyes and guzzled the water desperately.

Jeanine noticed as Hermione set the empty glass back on the table that her daughter’s hands were shaking slightly, “Hermione, sweetheart, perhaps you should go lie down?”

Although she nodded, Hermione didn’t move or even lift her eyes from the yellow plate in front of her.  After several moments, she blinked, “I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit, if that’s okay.”

Her parents shared another worried glance, then watched their daughter slowly stand and walk lethargically back up the stairs. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione opened her bedroom door, robotically pulled back the blankets on her bed then sat on its edge.  Staring at her soft blue wall, she replayed the previous night in her head; Snape had insisted that she flee Hogwarts immediately, only offering that the Death Eaters had awful intentions for Muggle-Borns; he hadn’t elaborated on what those plans were, nor had he explained how he intended to justify her disappearance to Voldemort if and when he sought her.  She knew that Voldemort would be furious when he learned that the Mudblood best friend of Harry Potter was not available to capture and extract information from, and she also knew that he would be absolutely livid if he found out that Snape had assisted her escape; Voldemort would kill him, and Hermione knew that he would not do it swiftly.  Her stomach lurched; she dove for her trash bin and shakily held it in front of her as she filled it with sick. Hermione set the wastebasket down and lay on her bed, wrapping the thick blankets tightly around herself as she wept into the feather pillow.  

Hermione slept nearly eighteen hours a day for the next week and a half, only dragging herself out of bed to use the restroom or grab a piece or two of toast; she spent the time that she wasn’t unconscious worrying over her beloved professor. At least three times a day, one of her parents would crack open her door and ask if she was alright; she never responded with anything but blubbering.

 

* * *

 

“Please,” Hermione begged in her sleep, “Please don’t.  Please don’t hurt him, please; I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt him…”

Jeanine quietly pulled Hermione’s door closed, frowning; she wondered who her daughter was pleading for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a short chapter; I wanted to end it before Hermione's parents got any more concerned - the next chapter will be longer, and more things just might be revealed to Mr. & Mrs. Granger...


	13. Tea(se)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape is finding it just as difficult as Hermione to be separated. Luckily, the Grangers invite the professor to tea.

Suds were violently scrubbed into a lather on the lean form of Snape as he fiercely scoured his chest and torso, his mind filled with rage at the thought of the situation he was currently in; Voldemort wanted to do a test invasion of the school to finalize tactics and make changes if unforeseen obstacles were presented, as well as take Muggle-Born students and interrogate them about their families. As stressful as this was for Snape, he was overwhelmed with worry for Hermione; he hadn’t a clue how he could possibly keep her safe from the inevitable violence and horror.  When The Dark Lord realized that the best friend, confidant and ally of his nemesis was not at the castle, he would relentlessly search for her, and certainly make her suffer an excruciating and slow death. Snape pounded the butt of his fists against the slick stone wall of the shower, livid.  He ran his fingers back through his wet, raven hair once, then bent his head to rest it against the wall, letting the steaming water pound onto the top of his head, pouring down his back, beads of water following the tracks outlining his muscles.  Snape shut off the water angrily, yanked the shower door open to snatch a towel from the rack and unceremoniously tousled his hair with it in a feeble attempt to dry it.  He wrapped the towel around his waist and stood at the sink; he glowered into the mirror, loathing the ashen visage.  His black eyes flicked to the clock on the bedside table; he snarled, realizing that his first had class didn’t start for an hour.  Snape opened the small cabinet on the wall to retrieve a razor and shave cream. More to occupy his mind than to remove stubble, the professor spread the foam on his face, and began to slowly scrape the blade across his jaw. 

After wiping away the foam left on his face, Snape patted his skin dry then scowled at nothing in particular as he dressed for the day.

Frowning at the dark wood of his desk, Snape gritted his teeth in frustration.  The students entered before he was ready to cease his brooding, so he flicked his wand to the blackboard, instructions to read two chapters of their textbooks and to take detailed notes.

When the final period was halfway over, Snape tore his eyes from his desk and gazed at the empty seat beside the Weasley boy briefly.  Realizing that all of the students had closed their books and were looking at other pupils, making gestures and mouthing sentences, Snape cleared his throat; when he spoke, he was surprised to hear that his voice was slightly hoarse, “Potter!  Do you believe your note-taking was sufficient?”

Harry frowned at his teacher, “Sure.”

“Tell me, then,” Snape stood and strolled down the aisle of desks toward the one that the boy was occupying, “Other than _The Killing Curse_ , what is the most difficult spell to resist?”

Looking automatically to the chair where Hermione usually would sit, Harry stammered, “Uh, ah…the _Imperius Curse_?”

“Are you answering my question or asking one of your own?”

Harry glared at Snape, “Answering.  The _Imperius Curse._ ”

“Incorrect. Reread the chapters,” the professor paused, “Does any one of you possess the ability to retain information besides Miss Granger?”

Ron frowned at Snape, “We might could ‘ _retain information_ ’ better if you’d stop glaring at us; it’s unnerving.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Longbottom nodding in agreement with the Weasley; he rounded on the student, “Longbottom!  What is the most difficult spell to resist?”

Neville squeaked, “The…maybe _Th – The Killing Curse_?

“I said **other than** _The Killing Curse,_ you imbecile.”

“Oh,” Neville said quietly.

 

* * *

 

 

For two weeks, Snape assigned each class textbook reading, not having the energy or focus enough to do much more.

Deciding to skip dinner to remain in the solitude of his quarters the second Wednesday since Hermione had left, Snape collapsed into his dark leather chair in front of his fireplace; he summoned a tumbler and the decanter of firewhiskey. His onyx eyes reflected the roaring flames he had produced on the hearth.  After several long minutes, Snape realized the pointlessness of using the small glass; he was consistently refilling it – he brought the decanter to his lips and gulped down the liquor, finding the subtle burn on his throat oddly pleasant.  The fire had shrunk to half its starting size before Snape moved; he stood, getting a wave of lightheadedness from the drink, removed his outer robe, then fell back into the chair.   The longer he watched the flames flickering, the angrier the professor became; Hermione was in hiding at her parents’, the most hateful wizard in Britain planning her capture, torture, and murder, and Snape had to remain at Hogwarts, to not only keep up his Death Eater façade, but because he was a professor and she was a student – _an underage student_. Snape gulped; this fact hadn’t registered until now.  Hermione couldn’t even do magic to prevent herself from being hurt, and he had sent her away to her parents, who were Muggles and therefore stood no chance against Death Eaters; Snape growled, even more concerned than he had already been. He drained the decanter then stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed to sink into a drunken sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Stop. Please!  Please stop!  Don’t!” Hermione pled in her sleep, shaking and wailing as she watched a faceless man cursing Snape, who was writhing in pain on the floor of the Hogwarts Great Hall.

“Please, just stop, please.  No, you can’t do this!  It’s not his fault,” she whimpered, begging for her professor’s life.

Jeanine watched in horror as her daughter begged for someone to be spared, trembling and sweaty, her face streaked with tears.  Tentatively, Jeanine crept toward the bed, planning to gently wake Hermione. Just before she reached her daughter, Hermione wept loudly and cried, “No!  Please!  Please don’t kill Severus!  Please!”

 Placing her hand on Hermione’s shoulder, Mrs. Granger quietly said her name and lightly shook her; Hermione’s eyes snapped open.

“Sweetheart, don’t you want supper?”

“What?” Hermione sniffled, “Oh.  Right. No; I’m not hungry.” Her stomach betrayed her with a rumble that contradicted her reply; she looked sheepishly at her mother and wiped a tear from her cheek as she sat up.

“We’ll see you down in the kitchen in five minutes?”

Her daughter nodded.

Hermione hadn’t seen or heard from Snape in a month and she was growing more worried every day and more heartbroken each hour.

 

* * *

 

 

Her mother tapped on her door one Monday morning, “Hermione, dear, in the sitting room there’s an owl with a letter at the window…we’re certain it’s for you.”

Leaping out of bed, Hermione rushed down the stairs and into the sitting room; surely enough, a dark Eurasian eagle owl was sitting on the windowsill, peering into the house expectantly.

Hermione opened the window and the bird fluttered in, perching on the back of a chair. Approaching the owl tentatively, nervous that the scroll bore bad news, Hermione sighed, “Hi there. Could I have that?”

 

The owl blinked at her and extended its leg to allow her to untie the letter; Hermione opened it, scared over what the message could be.  There were two pieces of parchment rolled together and sealed with the Hogwarts signet.  She broke the wax and, holding her breath anxiously, read the letter to herself:

 

_Hermione –_

_These past weeks have been torturous without your presence, my gem. In my thoughtful suffering, I’ve realized exactly how foolish it was for you to seek refuge with your parents; they are, after all, Muggles, and cannot provide nearly adequate protection and I will be bringing you back to the castle as soon as possible. I feel it is necessary for me to explain to your parents precisely what the situation is, and I’ve therefore included a letter to them, requesting a ‘parent/teacher conference’ in the coming week. Please give your parents the second parchment._

_– Severus_

_I’ve missed you terribly._

 

Smiling, Hermione peeled the second letter from the first and handed it to her mom and dad.

“For us?” they asked simultaneously. 

Hermione nodded; her mother took the letter and read it aloud,

 

 

_“Mr. and Mrs. Granger –_

_I am sure you were baffled by receiving correspondence from a stranger; I am Professor Snape, Defense Against The Dark Arts instructor at your daughter’s school. Although I am not sure of how informed you are on the state of things in The Wizarding Community, I feel that it would be in everyone’s best interest if I were given an opportunity to explain the severity of the situation._

_I would like to schedule a meeting that will provide me this opportunity – perhaps Thursday at noon?  If either the date or time are inconvenient, we can have the meeting another time._

_Please have Hermione send a response when you make a decision._

_– Prof. Snape_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”_

 

           

Jeanine sighed then looked at her husband, “What do you think? Can we make it Thursday?”

“That’s the day of the Cricket finals for our division, Jean,” Thomas said.

Hermione commented, “Oh, it’s okay; he won’t mind rescheduling for something important.  He dropped everything to bring me here that night.”

“This – he’s the one who brought you here?”

Nodding, Hermione said, “Yep.  And it was in the middle of the night, so it wasn’t exactly convenient.”

“Oh, then, Hermione, dear, why don’t you send a response asking him over for tea next Wednesday?  Your father and I want to thank him.”

 

She jumped up, raced to her bedroom, and quickly wrote the invitation:

 

_Severus –_

_My dad has the cricket finals on Thursday, so they can’t have the conference that day. When they found out that you were the one who brought me here, they wanted to thank you and they invited you for tea next Wednesday.  You don’t have to, but they wanted me to ask._

_– Hermione_

_I’ve thought of nothing but you since I arrived here._

 

* * *

 

Thomas heard the doorbell and opened the front door of the Granger residence to see a man clad completely in black with dark hair that barely ended above his shoulders, “Hello; are you from Hermione’s school?”

“I am,” Snape said, “Hello.”

Hermione had started to run down the stairs as soon as she heard the door chime, eager to embrace Snape, but stopped short when she realized that her dad had already opened the door and was standing before the man; she could hardly throw her arms around Snape’s neck in front of her father.

Snape’s eyes flicked past Thomas to see Hermione, who beamed at him, “Hello, Professor.” 

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger,” Snape spoke with his usual silken tone, a minute trace of amusement and sarcasm at their formality, only noticed by Hermione. “It is very gracious for you to have invited me to your home.” 

Hermione smirked, feeling as though it were silly to be so proper with a man to whom she had been completely exposed and engaged in intimate encounters, “We’re happy to welcome you.” 

Jeanine smiled genially, “I’m Jeanine.  It’s wonderful to have you.”

“Thomas Granger,” Thomas said, extending his hand; Snape shook Hermione’s father’s hand as he replied, “Severus Snape.”

“Shall we go into the sitting room?” Mrs. Granger suggested; the four made their way out of the foyer. Thomas and Jeanine each sat in one of two living chairs, leaving Hermione and Snape to sit on the sofa; the professor stood at the sofa and only sat once his student had done so.

Her cocoa eyes fixed on Snape, Hermione longed to be closer to him, aching to touch him, however briefly. 

After a few compliments on their home, Snape cleared his throat, “I suppose we should just jump into it – ” 

“I’ll fetch the tea, first, if you don’t mind,” Thomas said as he stood.

Snape gave a single nod accompanied by a slight smile.

Once her husband had left for the kitchen, Mrs. Granger sighed, feeling awkward, unsure exactly what to discuss as small talk with a wizard, “Mister Sn – Snape, is it?”

The man nodded, “Severus.”

Jeanine thought that the name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t think of where she had heard it.

“Ah. What subject do you teach, again?”

Snape folded his hands together, “Defense Against – ”

“Tea!” Thomas reentered the sitting room, bearing a small tray of four cups of tea, as well as cream and sugar.  After handing each person a cup, Mr. Granger set the tray on the coffee table.

Once they had all prepared their cups how they preferred, Mrs. Granger continued the conversation, “I’m sorry, you were saying which subject you teach…”

“Defense Against The Dark Arts,” Snape replied, “Although, this is my first year at that post; I previously was the Potions instructor.” The professor paused before clearing his throat and saying, “I wished to speak with you both, regarding the current circumstances.”

“Of course,” Mr. Granger said.

“As I’m sure Hermione has told you,” Snape started, “the danger and violence within the Wizarding World is increasing with astounding speed, and your daughter is a main target.”

“Of this Vuldemord person, right?”  Mr. Granger asked.

“ _Voldemort_ , dad,” Hermione sighed. 

“Because her father and I aren’t…?” 

Snape gave a solemn nod, “But also because of her friendship with Harry Potter; other students who associate with him are also in danger, regardless of their parentage.  This coupled with the fact that she is not what is called ‘a Pureblood Witch’, she is perhaps in more danger than most students.”

“Well, what should we do, then, Mister Snape?” Thomas asked. 

“Please, Severus,” Snape invited him to use his given name.

Mr. Granger nodded, “Right.  Sorry; what should we do, Sefhariss?”

“Dad, it’s _Severus_ ,” Hermione scolded.

Jeanine frowned briefly before she remembered hearing Hermione’s nightmare-induced pleads for a ‘Severus’; she couldn’t think of why her daughter would be begging for a teacher’s life.

Snape looked at Hermione’s father, “Honestly, there isn’t much that the two of you _can_ do; The Dark Lord is determined to eliminate Harry Potter, and He will do anything to achieve this, even if it causes,” Snape’s eyes flicked to Hermione and rested on hers as he finished, “ _collateral damage_.”

Mrs. Granger sat in the living chair for several moments as her husband gave suggestions, each of which Snape explained why they wouldn’t be effective ways to protect Hermione. 

“Is everyone done with their tea?” Jeanine asked suddenly.

The three nodded; Mrs. Granger collected their empty cups, the sugar and the cream, “Thomas, could you help me, please?” 

Mr. Granger stood, picking up the tray on which he had carried the dishes into the sitting room and followed his wife to the kitchen.

Once the door had closed, Jeanine spoke in a hushed tone, “Do you remember that night that I told you Hermione was crying in her sleep?” 

“She’s been doing that every night, Jean.” 

“ _I know_.  But this time, she was begging for someone to be spared, and I couldn’t remember the name?”

Thomas looked thoughtful, “Right.  What are you on about?”

Jeanine frowned, “I remember now.  It was ‘ _Severus_ ’. I just recalled.”

Recognizing that her husband wasn’t immediately understanding, the woman gestured toward the door, behind which Snape and Hermione were still in the sitting room, “ ** _Severus_**. Him!  She was **begging** for **him** ; she was _begging for **his** life_!”

“He seems like a good guy,” Hermione’s dad shrugged, “Maybe he’s a great teacher.”

Jeanine glared at her husband then sighed in exasperation, “No; it’s not just that! Did you see the way they _looked_ at each other?”

 

 

 

Snape laced his fingers through Hermione’s and squeezed her hand slightly, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Hermione nodded, “I know,” she whispered.

Pushing a piece of hair behind her ear, Snape lightly kissed her forehead.

 

 

 

“Nonsense, Jean,” Mr. Granger said as he cracked the shutters on the serving hatch and peered through into the sitting room to see the professor pressing his lips to Hermione’s forehead.

To his credit, Thomas remained composed and simply returned to the sitting room calmly to take a seat back in the living chair.  As soon as Snape had heard the door from the kitchen opening, he had pulled his mouth away from Hermione.

Mr. Granger spoke conversationally, “So, you said that this is your first year teaching that particular subject?  How long had you taught the other?”

Clearing his throat, Snape replied, “Fourteen years.” 

Jeanine joined the trio, “Did you always want to teach?”

Half-chuckling, half-scoffing, Snape said, “Hardly; I fell into the job, one could say.”

“What did you want to do?” Hermione asked, as curious as her parents.

“I aspired to be a _Medeischimiste_ ; I find the creation of new potions fascinating.  The current headmaster at Hogwarts, however, thought I would be a suitable instructor of the subject I had always excelled in.”

Thomas surveyed the man before him, “When was that? When did you begin teaching?”

“Four years following my final year as a student; I was very young to be given the position – only twenty-one.”

Quickly doing math in his head, Thomas realized that the teacher was thirty-five; nineteen years older than Hermione.

Slightly frowning for a brief moment, Snape wordlessly peeked into the mind of Mr. Granger.

 

‘ _Nineteen years? He’s snogging someone nineteen years younger than him?  Not just_ someone _; my **daughter**_.’

 

The wizard retreated from Thomas’s thoughts, curious as to how he had known…

It was clear in Mrs. Granger’s expression that she also knew; Snape sighed then snuck a millisecond long glance at Hermione before saying, “I will protect your daughter with everything I have.”

Hermione’s parents saw honesty on his face and heard sincerity in Snape’s voice, and they also knew that, somehow, he was aware that they knew that he shared non-academic a bond with their daughter.

“I will give my life to spare hers,” Snape said as he gazed lovingly at his student. 

Hermione’s parents exchanged a look.

“Thank you both for the hospitality,” Snape stood, “It was greatly appreciated.”

Also standing, Hermione said, “I’ll walk you out.”

As the pair exited the sitting room, Thomas and Jeanine looked at each other.

 

On the stoop, Hermione looked up at her professor, “Are you taking me back now?”

“That wouldn’t go over well with your parents.”

Frowning, Hermione said, “What?  Why not?”

“It’s dusk.”

Giving him a quizzical look, the girl asked, “What has that got to do with anything?”

“It will be night soon,” Snape gave her a meaningful look, “And they know.”

“They know what?”

 

Taking her hand, Snape spoke softly, “They know.  It would be unwise to take you back to Hogwarts with that realization fresh in their minds, especially at nightfall.”

Hermione nodded, “Okay; you’re probably right.”  She wound her arms around his neck and stood on her toes to kiss Snape’s lips, but he retreated.

As she pouted, Snape chuckled, “They may know, but I see no reason to flaunt.”

 

He turned her hand over in his, lacing their fingers. The professor lowered his mouth down near her ear. Snape quietly spoke, “Friday.  I will bring you back with me.”

Moving his lips a mere millimeter from hers, Snape continued, “I will bring you back, and then I will take you as you’ve never been taken.”

 

Hermione shivered.


	14. Test Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort and his Death Eaters go to Hogwarts, inspecting things and taking hostages.

“We were in the damned cabinet for twenty minutes before we got here!” Yaxley snarled at Draco Malfoy, “I thought you said that thing was fixed, boy!”

Draco sneered, “I said it was _almost_ fixed, you imbecile.”

Placing a placating hand on his son’s shoulder, Lucius looked at their leader.

“And what a job you’ve done; wonderful,” The Dark Lord praised. “I do, however, hope the…defects will not be still present when we return.”

“He’s a bloody hero,” Fenrir growled, “Can we get to the reason we’re here?”

Rowle nodded, “Right; focus.”

The Death Eaters split into pairs: Draco with Lucius, Yaxley with Amycus Carrow, Rowle with Fenrir. They stealthily swept through corridors, each duo creeping into a House – sparing Slytherin – in search of the students from a list on scraps of parchment.

The Malfoys crept into Ravenclaw, cast a silencing spell on a Terrance Strout and Evelyn Ward,towing the Muggle-Borns from his House.

Rowle and Fenrir collected two students from Hufflefuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Patrick Bagby, while Yaxley and Amycus invaded Gryffindor Tower.

Amycus and Yaxley entered the common room; Yaxley looked to his companion, “Isn’t that Mudblood girl Snape’s had in Gryffindor?”

Nodding as his eyes filled with deviance, Amycus responded, “You’re right; I’d almost forgotten.” 

The pair ascended the staircase to the girls’ dormitory and quietly entered; they stood in silence, looking around the room at the sleeping students.

“What’s her name, again?” Amycus asked as quietly as possible, “Something ‘Gr…”

Yaxley’s eyes scanned the short list of names, seeing only ‘ _Grant Bradbury_ ’ and ‘ _Hermione Granger_ ’, “Hermione Granger?”

“Yes, that was it.”

“Well, which one is she?” Yaxley asked, receiving only a shrug in reply.  The men crept through the rows of beds, thinking that perhaps the beds had name plaques; they were about to give up when Yaxley hissed to get the other’s attention. He gestured wordlessly to an empty, perfectly made bed.  Amycus frowned, not understanding; Yaxley tapped his toe on the trunk that was halfway under the bed.  Amycus bent closer and squinted to read the nametag:

 **This case is the property of:** _Hermione Jean Granger_

 

Amycus growled in disappointment at his desired target’s absence and gave a nod to acknowledge he realized the girl was not there, then frowned, “Who else’s on there?”

“Colin Creevey,” Yaxley replied, “Oh, and Dennis – brothers.”

“Should we get ‘em both?”

His mouth turning up in deviance, Yaxley said, “No, we’ll see if the younger one’s tongue will be looser if he wants to get back to his big brother.” 

“Right.  So, what’s another one?”

“Lindsey Abbott,” Yaxley replied.

The pair cast Silencing Spells on the students and hauled them away.

 

 

__________________

 

 

Once the Death Eaters had returned to Voldemort, he asked, “Were there any complications?”

Each shook their head; Rowle spoke, “’Cept we didn’t know how to get into that damn Hufflepuff basement; I swear, I just poked what looked like a lid, and, outta no where, I get sprayed with vinegar. Fucking school. But, we got these two eventually.”

Voldemort didn’t act as though he was interested at all, and he silently strolled in front of the silent-but-clearly-terrified spoils.

 “Which is the friend of Potter?  Is it this one?” He asked, his cold eyes on Evelyn Ward.

Obviously concerned for his safety, Yaxley replied, “N – No, My Lord; she wasn’t there.”

Hateful eyes narrowed at the Death Eater, Voldemort hissed, “She _wasn’t there_? How is that possible?”

“I don’t – I don’t know, My Lord.  I’m sorry, My Lord.”

Voldemort turned his eyes to Amycus, “It looks as though your ‘fun’ with the other girl will have to wait until our official invasion, Carrow.”

Amycus gave a nod.

 

______________________

 

 

The Death Eaters had returned to Malfoy Manor, their captives were tossed in the basement; Voldemort descended the stairs to appraise the spoils again.

Slowly walking in front of the six students, The Dark Lord said in a conversational tone, “Greetings, Mudbloods. You’re wondering, I’m sure, why it is that you’ve been brought here.” 

“You want information about Harry Potter,” Justin Finch-Fletchley spoke heatedly, “We’re not stupid; we know who you are.”

His eyes snapped to the speaker and Voldemort sneered, “As noble as your words are, surely you are aware of what I am capable of, if you truly do know who I am.”

“Go ahead, threaten me,” Justin said, “We both know that if you kill me, I can’t give you anything you want.”

“Ah, the bravery of Gryffindor.”

“I’m a Hufflepuff, actually,” Justin squared his jaw, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll give in to your bullying, and it doesn’t mean I’ll sit by and let you hurt anyone.”

Dennis looked nervously between the two.

“A Hufflepuff, really?” Voldemort eyed Justin, “How…unexpected. Unbelievable, honestly.”

Crossing his arms, Justin hoped Voldemort couldn’t see his hands shaking as he said, “B – Believe it.”

Wordlessly, The Dark Lord glared at the boy, flicked his wand, and watched him crumple to the floor, lifeless; Lindsey and Evelyn screamed; Terrence Strout, Dennis Creevey, and Patrick Bagby stared in shock and horror.

Voldemort was unfazed, “Bravery is merely stupidity in action,” he paused.  “Onto the reason for your attendance; Bella!” the wizard called out.  A moment later, Bellatrix entered the basement, followed by Fenrir, Yaxley, Rowle, Lucius and Dolohov.

“Welcome, friends,” Voldemort greeted his followers, “Our capture of _these_ has provided a perfect opportunity to practice the spell Bellatrix has created; Bella, would you?”

Her chin in the air, Bellatrix stood facing her fellow Death Eaters; jerking her head slightly toward the students, she said, “Pick one.” When it became evident that they had each chosen a victim, the woman said, “The words are _defaeco neam crux sano_ ; I admit, it’s rather long, but it’s three curses in one.  Go on, then; _defaeco. neam. crux. sano._ ”

Each wizard attempted to say the incantation, but became tongue-tied or mispronounced the words.

“Imbeciles,” Bellatrix spat, hissing at her fellow Death Eaters, “Try it again!”

On the fourth attempt, Lucius Malfoy was successful; Dennis twitched and collapsed to the floor.  One by one, each of the Death Eaters made progress in using the spell; their captors were soon writhing on the floor in agony as deep gashes were cut into their flesh, blood pouring from the worlds.  The students’ screams echoed off the walls of the basement, as scarlet rivers flowed along the cracks and crevices.  The Death Eaters used to the new curse on their victims for several long minutes.

Panting heavily, Patrick struggled to his feet, “What do you want us to tell you?” he asked, his voice weary.

“I require information…information about Harry Potter,” Voldemort answered.

“What sort of information?” Terrence asked.

“Apparently, he has been regularly meeting with Dumbledore, and I need to know why – I need to know what the headmaster has been discussing with him.”

“I didn’t even know he was doing that,” Patrick commented, “We’re not friends enough for him to tell any of us that, anyway. He really only hangs out with that Ron Weasley kid and know-it-it-all Granger girl.”

His hateful eyes flitted to Yaxley as Voldemort questioned, “Granger? Isn’t that the one Severus…?”

Yaxley nodded. 

“And the girl wasn't there, you say?”

“No, My Lord, she wasn’t,” Yaxley confirmed.

Voldemort’s eyes glinted with red anger, “Go Floo Severus.”

Yaxley hurried into the living area, flicked his wand toward the fireplace to fill it with flames, then grabbed a handful of Floo Powder; he threw the dust into the fire, “Contact Severus Snape.

 

__________________

 

 

Snape was sitting in his chambers, poring over a Muggle book, Oedipus Rex, when a fire suddenly came to life on his hearth; he lifted his eyes to the flames and was shocked to see the head of Yaxley, “Yes?” the professor asked.

“He wants you,” was all that Yaxley said before the fire fizzled to nothingness.

Snape jumped up, tossed a bit of Powder into the fireplace and spoke, “Malfoy Manor” as he stepped into the stone cavern.

 

__________________

 

“My Lord?” Snape said to Voldemort once he was standing in front of the infamous wizard in the mansion’s dining room.

“During our visit to Hogwarts, we had a certain student we wanted to bring back with us,” The Dark Lord said.

Snape cocked his head slightly, then quickly employed his Occlumency.

“Where is your little toy?  She was no where to be found at the school…” Voldemort hissed.

Quickly, the professor answered, “I believe there was a family emergency.”

“I see,” the evil wizard replied, “Perhaps her Muggle parents died…” Voldemort spoke hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there wasn't any Snape/Hermione interaction in this one, but I wanted to show Voldy & the Death Eaters being horrible people.
> 
> RIP JFF :(


	15. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED AND EXTENDED - PLEASE REREAD  
> Snape struggles to explain Hermione's absence to Voldemort. The professor returns Hermione to Hogwarts.

“You were aware, of course, of the importance this girl you’ve taken an interest in could be, are you not?” Voldemort’s eyes flashed with anger, “And you, Severus, failed to ensure that she was available to us.”

Snape lowered his gaze, “My apologies, My Lord; I assure you that, had I been aware of her impending absence, I would have done everything in my power to bring the girl to you.”

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes hatefully, “Would you have, really?”

“Yes, My Lord, certainly.”

“Then why is it that I so strongly doubt you?”

Severus didn’t reply.

“I can tell when someone is lying to me, Severus,” Voldemort said flatly, “and you are lying to me.”

“ _Crucio!_ ”

Excruciating pain ripped through Snape’s body; in less than a second, he had fallen to the floor, his every muscle convulsing uncontrollably.  The professor twitched in agony, sweat quickly forming on his forehead and face.

After several long moments, Voldemort ended the torture and hissed, “Why do you lie, Severus?  My dear friend, we should have no secrets, you and I. Where is this friend of Potter’s?”

Shaking his head, Snape knew that he was earning himself the Unforgivable Curse yet again; he was correct, for the evil wizard once again used the Cruciatus Curse on him, all the while cooing, “This will end if you just answer the question.”

Had Snape been able to form a thought, he would have been constantly hoping Voldemort would stop cursing him, but, no, the horrific pain continued; the professor violently jerked and spasmed uncontrollably.

Sneering in malicious satisfaction, Voldemort gave Snape a reprieve only long enough to hiss, “I can continue this for a very long time, Severus; you’ve witnessed me doing so.  Just tell me what you’re hiding, tell me what is secret.”

Snape said nothing.

Sighing, The Dark Lord shook his head in disappointment before sneering, “ _defaeco neam crux sano._ ”

The most horrific agony tore through Snape; he grew weak as he felt a liquid warmth flowing from him.  Dizziness consumed him as he contemplated if dying would be preferable to this terror.  Snape felt as though his chest was being ripped viciously open and his organs yanked out; he thought he was drowning as his lungs and esophagus filled with blood. Vaguely aware of a cruel laughter, Snape focused on it, trying desperately to retain consciousness. As his attention became more fixed, he recognized the severity of the situation: Hermione was going to be victim to this torture, and she would not survive the hours following its use on her. 

The anguish was stripping away his mental barriers; Snape knew that The Dark Lord would soon easily be able to witness his declarations of love to his student.

Gasping, Snape groaned, “I wanted – I only wanted –more – before – killed.”

Lifting the curse, Voldemort questioned, “What was that?”

Remaining on the ground, expended and drained, the professor panted, “I said – I just wanted – to have her – again – before – before you kill her.”

A sadistic smirk appeared on the face of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, “Tsk, tsk, Severus; why didn’t you say?  I will make certain you have the opportunity to do so; you can share her with Amycus.”

Flexing his hands, Snape said, “A generous gesture, My Lord, thank you.  However, I prefer private encounters; that is why I wanted to keep her location hidden, so that I could enjoy her, have her entirely to myself, one last time before she dies.”

“I see.  Retrieve her, return her to the school and have the girl each night if you want; we will not attack yet,” the dark wizard conceded, “I am generous, Severus, but, I warn you: do not lie to me again.  I assure you that you will regret it.”

 

__________________

  

Several light taps came at Hermione’s door the next evening.   The girl looked up from the book she was reading to see her mother slowly cracking it open.

Jeanine smiled at her daughter, “Your professor is here.”

Beaming, Hermione leapt off her bed and rushed downstairs. When she saw Snape standing just inside the front door, her first instinct was to run into his arms; she remembered his words the previous week about ‘flaunting’ and decided it would be better to simply say hello.

“Professor!  Have you come to take me back to Hogwarts?”

Snape nodded, “I have. That is, if your parents do not object.”

“Of course not,” Thomas said, shaking the professor’s hand, “I assume we’ll be seeing each other again." 

 “I certainly hope you’re correct.”

After giving their daughter swift hugs, her mother and father watched as Hermione walked out the door with her professor. 

 

 

Taking her hand, Snape Apparated back to the school and they walked to his chambers; he turned to face her, “My God, I missed you,” he said quietly, holding his students face in his hands.

He crashed his mouth down onto hers, a hungry passion overwhelming him; they fell onto his bed and spent the remainder of the evening entangled.

 

 

__________________

 

 

“Open your books to page 792,” Snape interested ends class of Sixth Year students; he flicked his wand at the blackboard to make the word CURSE appear vertically.

“Do any of you know the meaning of this?”

Hermione’s hand raised hesitantly, “Is – is it maybe an acronym?” 

Nodding once, Snape said, “Yes, it is. Does anyone know what it stands for?”

No one answered -  not even Hermione.

Giving a disappointed sigh, Snape explained, “ CURSE. Confident. Unwavering. Resolute. Determined. Sincere. Explicit.” He paused as his eyes flitted around the room before he explained, “One must be confident, unwavering, resolute, determined, sincere, and explicit when casting an Unforgivable Curse -  in other words, you cannot use the _Cruciatus Curse_ on someone you do not want to torture; you cannot use the _Imperius Curse_ on someone you do not wish to control; and you cannot use the Killing Curse – _Avada Kedavra_ – to murder someone whom you do not desire to execute.   Now, that does not mean your wand will know your true desires for the person; throughout history, a fair number of wizards have been killed in minor disputes because the caster of the spell wanted the victim dead in that moment of casting  – a crime of passion, one could say.   Unlike Potions, where your intentions and emotions are irrelevant to the outcome of the final result, the Unforgivable Curses, which are Dark Arts, require a very specific emotion: hatred.” 

Ron raised his hand, “If you have to feel hate towards the person you’re cursing, then how can someone _accidentally_ murder someone with the Killing Curse?”

“As humans, we all have fleeting moments of hatred,” Snape answered, “and, if the curse is cast during one of those brief moments, then it will be effective.”

“Oh,” Ron said, nodding.

Flicking his wand, Snape caused a sheet of parchment to flutter to each student, explaining, “On each of these papers, a scenario is detailed; you are to write two rows of parchment discussing whether or not the Unforgivable Curse cast at the end of the scenario will prove effective.” 

Soon after giving the assignment, he dismissed the class.

Over supper, Harry frowned down at his roast chicken, “So, this assignment for Snape; are we supposed to take a stance? Like, declare that it won’t work or that it will?  Or are we supposed to give both sides of the argument?”

Frowning, Hermione said, “I had the same question myself.”

“What?” Ron asked, “Then why didn’t you ask it?”

The girl shrugged, “I figure I can just ask him tonight in detention.”

Harry gave a judgmental look of disbelief, “Seems like Snape’s been going easy on you, Hermione; I mean, he hasn’t called you a know-it-all this whole semester.”

“And he used to do it at least once a week,” Ron added.

Hermione gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “I think he’s just been in a better mood lately; probably since Dumbledore finally let him teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

Harry grumbled briefly before commenting, “No, he wasn’t in a better mood until the middle of the first semester; if that had been it, he’d have quit being a bastard earlier.”

Shooting her friend a sharp glare, Hermione snapped, “Don’t do that!  Don’t call him names, Harry." 

“Hey,” Ron spoke as though he had just come out of a reverie, “You don’t think…he’s in a better mood because he…”

Harry sighed, “We don’t have all day.”

Smiling faintly over the top of her goblet at Harry, Hermione wished Ron would talk more quickly; she had to be in detention in ten minutes. 

Looking sheepish, Ron continued, “Maybe he’s in a better mood because…you don’t think he could be _relieving_ stress by doing… _bedroom stuff_ , do you?”

“What?  What are you suggesting, mate?” Harry questioned. 

Ron whispered, “Maybe he’s in a better mood because he’s _getting lucky_.”

Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice and sputtered into the glass, coughing violently.

“No way!” Harry said through laughter, “Who would even consider sleeping with Snape?” he shuddered, “Yuck!  Can you imagine?”

“Right.  Plus, the lady teachers are way older than him.  Innit he the youngest teacher here?  Like forty or something?” 

“He’s thirty-five,” Hermione corrected casually.

Harry gave her an odd look, “Wh – What? How…how do you know that?” 

“I – I think he mentioned it once…” Hermione stammered; it had actually come up in a conversation with the professor about the impropriety of their relationship. Snape had insisted on reminding her that he was almost two decades older than her, and Hermione had constantly declared that she didn’t care.

Ron scoffed, “Why in the bloody hell did he mention _that_?”

“He didn’t _actually_ say, ‘by the way, I’m thirty-five’, Ronald!  Snape told me that he’d been teaching here since he was twenty-one, and, at the party for him at the beginning of the year, I heard someone mention that he’s been a professor for sixteen years.  I simply did the math.”

“Back up, back up, back up,” Harry insisted, “Did you just say that _Snape_ _told you_?  How’d that happen?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “We were having a conversation, Harry – people do that.”

“Yeah, _people_ do, Hermione,” Ron commented, “Snape doesn’t.” 

“Actually, he does.  And he’s really not as horrible as everyone seems to think,” Hermione sighed. Unknowingly, her voice took on a dreamy quality, “He’s not horrible, at all, really.”

“You’re insane, Hermione,” Ron scoffed, “He definitely is horrible – a nightmare, really.”

Ginny leaned into the conversation, “Who’s horrible?” 

Harry gave Ginny a broad smile as her brother answered, “Snape.  Hermione thinks he isn’t, but he clearly is awful.” 

The red—haired girl frowned curiously, “Why are you talking about Snape?”

“We were saying how Snape’s been less of a git…” Harry started.

“He _has_ been better lately,” Ginny agreed.

Harry continued, “and Ron made the stupid suggestion that Snape’s been hooking up with someone – which is just nuts – and Hermione somehow knew how old he is; she’s trying to convince us that Snape isn’t a piece of scum.  I guess she was saying it’s possible he has someone he booty calls.”

“I didn’t say **_anything_** about it being a ‘booty call’ – that’s gross and insulting – ” 

“To who?” Harry asked. 

“Snape.  Whoever he’s involved with.  Maybe he has a girlfriend; you don’t know.”

Ginny frowned thoughtfully at Hermione for a moment before her eyes widened slightly; Hermione shook her head a tiny amount then stood from the table, “I actually have to go to detention now.”

As she passed by Ginny, the girl grabbed Hermione’s wrist, “Hey…are you…?” 

“Later,” Hermione said in a hushed tone then hurried off to Snape’s classroom.

 

__________________

 

 

“Good evening, Professor,” Hermione gave Snape a warm smile, which he returned with an embrace.

The student sat at a desk in the front row, facing her teacher as they both graded quizzes.

Several times, Hermione caught Snape gazing at her; she chuckled quietly, “Am I distracting you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Snape raised his eyebrows.

Giving a quiet sigh, the professor gestured to her, “Come. Sit with me.”

She did so, happily sitting in the chair Snape had summoned beside his own. He quickly kissed her cheek before they returned to their stacks of parchment.  Hermione scratched marks on tests, glancing at Snape frequently.

The classroom door opened, and Dumbledore entered, “I certainly do hope I’m not interrupting.”

“I know Miss Granger has detention, Severus,” Dumbledore spoke, “However, I wanted a word with you.”

“Of course,” the professor nodded.

“I do apologize, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, “But I need a _private_ word with the professor.”

“Right, no problem,” Hermione stood, “I’ll just reorganize your storeroom; you’ve said you’d have me do that tomorrow, anyway.”

“Certainly,” Snape responded.  His dark eyes followed Hermione out of the room before he turned back to the headmaster, “Yes, Albus?”


	16. Last Chance To Say It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a discussion with Dumbledore, and a chat with Voldemort, Snape makes a request of Hermione

Dumbledore conjured a large, squashy armchair and sat in front of Snape’s desk; the headmaster surveyed Snape with crystalline eyes for several minutes.

The piercing gaze made Snape very uncomfortable, “Yes? What was the matter you wished to discuss?”

Peering over his half-moon glasses the way that made Snape feel scrutinized and restless, Dumbledore finally spoke, “I wonder, Severus, if you had perhaps reconsidered your decision to go back on your word.”

Steepling his fingers and placing them against his mouth, the professor narrowed his coal eyes, “My word was never a thing you should have asked of me – not regarding the task you want me to do.”

The old man frowned, “Perhaps not.  However, you agreed, Severus; I can see your decision to refuse becoming more final, and I am only pleading with you to consider the consequences of your actions; this could very well mean the difference between the ruin of a teen and the chance at a life for him.  Do you care nothing about Draco?  Do you care nothing about your word?”

Snape slammed his hands onto his desk and snarled, “Damn my word!  I will not do what you’re asking of me!” 

The headmaster looked taken slightly aback my the ferocity of Snape and he cleared his throat quietly before speaking again, “If that is your final decision, very well.  However, I feel I should remind you of the consequences if Draco completes his assignment: he would be a legitimate follower of Tom’s, and, after murdering the headmaster, I daresay he would have any qualms about killing those students he sees as _unfit_. You would not; you would continue to protect each student, as you have done for so many years.” 

A thoughtful look came over Snape’s face. He gave an anxious glance toward the storeroom where Hermione was before swallowing thickly, “Fine. You are most likely correct; if Mister Malfoy assassinates you, there is nothing to stop him from killing every Muggle-Born in this school.”  He paused, and then asked with concern, “When are you taking Potter to the Cliffs of Moher to retrieve the horcrux?”

“In a few day’s time,” Dumbledore said, “Saturday at dusk; we should return just before midnight.”

Snape nodded solemnly as he stood, “I shall inform The Dark Lord of the date.”

  

__________________

 

“I have excellent news, My Lord,” Snape said confidently to Voldemort, “The headmaster has just informed me that he will be attending a qudditch game Saturday afternoon.  He doesn’t expect to be back until midnight; this is a most opportune time to take the school, as well as kill Dumbledore – he is an old man, and going to a quidditch match, having to climb hundreds of stairs will weaken him greatly: he will be an easy victim.” 

“Marvelous,” Voldemort gave a nod, “Tell Draco. I will pass the information to the others.”

 

__________________

 

 

When Snape returned from Malfoy Manor a mere hour later, he was pleased to see that Hermione was still in his classroom.

“Is everything okay?” she asked in a slightly panicked tone.

Taking her into a warm embrace, Snape nodded, “It will be.” He kissed the top of his student’s head, “But I need you to promise me two things.”

Hermione pulled away from his chest only enough to look up at him, “What’s that?”

“Friday evening, you will stay with me.”

Hermione nodded as she gave him a dreamy smile and nuzzled into his chest, “Of course.”

 “And Saturday evening, you will stay in your bed no matter what you hear or see.”

She frowned slightly, “What’s going on Saturday?”

Lifting her chin with his hand, Snape looked seriously at her, “Just promise, Hermione, please.”

Sighing in resignation, Hermione grumbled, “Fine. I’ll stay in bed.”

 

__________________

 

 

Snape was anxious and stressed so much that he gave no ridiculously-long essays or too challenging of in-class assignments Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, mostly instructing the students to read from their textbooks and take notes.  Hermione was worried, as well, uneasy that her typically composed, confident professor was so concerned.

 

 

 

Friday evening, after supper, Hermione walked to Snape’s classroom. Once she entered, Snape approached her, gently placed his hands on either side of her face, and slowly lowered his mouth to hers; he softly brushed his lips against Hermione’s, tilting his head this way and that, suckling softly on her lower lip and tenderly grazing his mouth over his student’s. 

“Sev – ”

Snape shook his head slightly, “No,” he said in a hushed tone, “Just let me.  Shh.” His thumb brushed over her lips before he connected his mouth to hers once again.  Snape’s fingers slid under the shoulders of her jacket and pushed it back off her frame, his hands grazing down her arms as he painstakingly slowly peeled it from her.  He ran his hands down her arms at a glacial pace, slipping his fingers between hers when he reached her hands.  Pulling his mouth from Hermione’s slightly, Snape gave the faintest of smiles before he pulled her through the door leading to his chambers.  He tugged her through the sitting room, across the library, and into his bedroom.  After removing his cloak and frock coat, Snape’s fingers brushed her hair from her neck, exposing the flesh so he could graze his lips over the side of it.  Hermione closed her eyes, letting him bathe the scoop of her neck in soft kisses and slow licks.  The professor slipped his hands up under her shirt, lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. 

“Turn around,” he husked in her ear.

Hermione turned her back to him; she shivered slightly as his fingers traced her scapula and down her spine.  Snape kissed her throat, running his hands down her arms, then he unclasped her bra. His hands brushed over her breasts slowly, then trailed down her stomach to unbutton her jeans.  His mouth on top of her shoulder, he softly spoke, “Face me,” and then turned her back around. Snape looked down at her, the heat of a dark fire in his eyes. 

Snape’s mouth slowly consumed the front of her neck before trailing down between her breasts and onto her stomach as he lowered himself to his knees in front of her.  He gently kissed her stomach, holding her hips as he explored her abdomen. Snape’s mouth brushed leisurely down her skin, his lips now at the unbuttoned waistband of her jeans. Snape grasped the legs of her pants and towed them down.  He kissed her small mound before he pulled down the royal blue panties she wore. Letting them fall down around her ankles, Snape brought his mouth to her thigh before slipping his finger between her lips and drawing a shining line of dampness slightly up her stomach. Snape rose to his feet and gazed at the girl, “You’re perfect.” 

Hermione felt a slight blush creep into her cheeks. 

“Sit down,” Snape requested.

Hermione did so, her entire body burning with desire. She watched as her professor unbuttoned his dress shirt to remove it and stepped out of his pants. The student thought that the teacher was the perfect one; she longed for him. 

After undressing, Snape returned to her, standing, slightly hunched, in front of Hermione so that he could kiss her again. His hand ran up the back of her head, tresses of her hair threading through his fingers, as he lowered her onto his bed. Eyes shining with desire, Hermione looked up at Snape.  He traced his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, and laced his fingers through hers once again. The student sighed. Snape then trailed his hands down her calves, over her stomach, and along her neck. 

Hermione was so aroused that she though she would lose her mind if he didn’t touch her very soon, “Severus,” she whined.

“Shh, Hermione. Just wait.  Please,” Snape whispered against her collarbone, “I need to…”

He dragged his mouth over her clavicle and down her chest, deliberately connecting his lips with every inch of her soft skin; Snape grazed his hand over her leg as he kissed her side.  Hermione groaned in sexual frustration; Snape smirked up at her, then drew his tongue across the folds between her legs. He slowly tasted Hermione’s warmth, lathing her body with his tongue.  Snape parted her and suckled the small bead of nerves delicately; Hermione sighed. When his fingers slid inside her cavern, Hermione bucked against him.  His lips still around her pearl, Snape groaned at Hermione’s response. The vibration of his grunt shot through Hermione and she was lost; her body was overcome with tremors and waves of ecstasy.  Snape removed his fingers from within her and gladly collected her juice on his tongue. 

After he drank from her, Snape moved back up to kiss Hermione’s neck, his lips moist with her essence.  Hermione blinked up at the man on top of her and squirmed slightly. Snape positioned his member at his student’s entrance and, gazing into her chocolate eyes, slowly slid himself inside her.  Hermione watched his face, framed by his black hair, as he felt her body opening to receive him; he seemed to be relishing her.

Snape remained still within her, savoring the girl’s snug heat around him, “Hermione,” he husked, “I – God – I love you so much; I need you to – to know that.”

Hermione moaned into his ear, “I do. I – oh…”

Slowly withdrawing from her, Snape swallowed thickly and gently kissed Hermione’s lips.  His mouth against hers, the teacher panted, “I would do anything for you – anything.” When the words were out of his mouth, he gently pushed his rod into her again.  Hermione whined, breathing ragged.  

Snape delved inside his student, slowly, deliberately, leisurely. He didn’t fuck her; he made love to her. Each time he slipped slowly inside her sheath, Snape would become still, and simply feel her body, snug around him.  Hermione gave a soft moan at the sensation of experiencing him gradually, inch by inch, as he tenderly took her. 

The professor continued his tender invasion of Hermione’s body, carefully attempting to bring her to bliss once again. He softly licked her neck before suckling delicately on the tender flesh.  

Snape very lightly scraped his teeth over the girl’s earlobe, softly biting it before he murmured, “Hermione. I want to feel you let go.”

Licking her lips, Hermione purred at his request; a moment later, she was writhing beneath him, clenching tightly to Snape’s manhood as she sighed, arching into him. 

“Yes,” Snape praised her, “Good. Mmm.”

Hermione was consumed by pleasure, trembling in ecstasy, unable to contain her moan of bliss. 

Snape gazed lovingly down at her, groaning as he bit his lip; he released his thick warmth inside his student.

 

 

Hermione sighed, her head lying on Snape’s rising and falling chest; she traced her fingers absentmindedly over his sternum.

He kissed the top of her head, running his fingers through her hair sleepily, “I love you.  So much.”

Lifting her chin to look at him, Hermione smiled, “I love you too.” After a moment, she rested her head back on Snape’s solid chest and frowned, “Severus?  Why was it so important to you that I knew that?”

Snape yawned and gave a garbled, half-asleep response, “I dunno – just…not sure I’ll get another chance to tell you…that. Night, Herminny.”

Hermione sighed, content to be in the arms of the man she loved, but now also concerned by what he had just said.


	17. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry overhears a private discussion between Dumbledore and Snape. When he tells Hermione, she confronts her professor.

Drowsily rolling over, Snape brushed his fingers on Hermione’s back; the girl stirred and made a quiet groan of contentedness, snuggling back against her professor. Snape gave a growl of frustration, remembering that Hermione’s adoration for him would most likely come to a sudden halt that evening; he lightly kissed her neck and ran his hand down her arm to wake her.

Hermione turned sleepily to face him, his arms winding around her. She gazed up at him, “Good morning. Last night…was…amazing.”

Snape smiled faintly, “It was perfect,” he sighed, an emotion somewhere between care and sadness becoming evident in his eyes,, “I’m glad you thought it amazing.” 

“Severus, what did you mean when you said you weren’t sure that you’d get another opportunity to tell me you love me?” 

Groaning, Snape cursed himself; he had been so immersed in the moment that he had completely abandoned his judgment on what came out of his mouth. The professor smirked, “I do believe I lost my senses.  You are, after all, so intoxicating,” Snape drew his tongue up the side of her neck seductively then let his lips envelop her earlobe delicately before softly speaking, “A man cannot be expected to retain his mental faculties when presented with such an exquisite form.” 

The professor rolled her onto her back and brushed his mouth over her throat as Hermione tilted her head back to grant him access to the front of her neck.

“Is it so unbelievable that I wanted to memorize every detail of your body? Perhaps I simply wanted to savor you, claim you, tame the untamable Miss Hermione Granger…” His hands brushed over Hermione’s sides as his lips caressed her shoulders.

Hermione gave a silly giggle, “I’m untamable?”

“Not to me,” Snape’s voice was once again husky and filled with desire. “Not anymore,” the professor pushed himself inside the girl, causing Hermione to gasp at the unexpected invasion. Snape rocked slowly, consuming Hermione gently and sensually.  He watched the girl’s face soften in pleasure as her lips parted slightly to accommodate her quickening breaths; Snape slid his hands into hers, intertwining their fingers as he raised them to rest on either side of her head. Their eyes locked, Snape continued his soft possession of his student.

 

 

_________________

 

 

“Is everything in order, Severus?”

“It’s just as you requested, Albus,” Snape responded bitterly.

Dumbledore frowned, “You know this is the only way. 

“I would beg to differ,” the professor replied silkily.

The headmaster sighed, “Severus, this must be done.”

Snape gave a distrusting look to Dumbledore before he sighed, “I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord – Harry Potter – safe.  How is this possibly in accordance with that objective?  Tell me, Albus, how is allowing the enemy into the castle going to achieve this goal of yours?  How is me risking my life – _yet again_ – aid in the progression of your brilliant plan?  You do realize, of course, that you will most likely not be the only one killed tonight; it is a reasonable assumption that I will die, also. How is my death to move your scheme along?”

 

“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore spoke as the boy tapped on the headmaster’s office door, accidentally cracking it open, as it had only been pushed to.

Snape’s eyes snapped to Harry, realizing that he may have just overheard the conversation between himself and Dumbledore. However, if he had heard the exchange, Harry showed no signs of reaction. 

“Sorry, professor,” Harry said to Dumbledore, “You asked me to meet you at noon…I can come back if you’re in the middle of something.”

“No need, Harry,” the old man said cheerfully, “Severus and I are done.”

Taking his leave, Snape cast Dumbledore a disappointed glance and exited the office.

“Is – is everything okay, sir?” 

“Oh, things are just fine, Harry, no need to worry,” Albus spoke reassuringly, “Now, onto the reason I asked you to see me: surely you remember me telling you that you could accompany me when I retrieve the next horcrux I found?  Well, I believe I’ve located it, and we’ll be going to collect it this evening.” 

“Really?  Wow. Okay, um, what should I do?”

Dumbledore chuckled, “Ever so eager! I should warn you, though, this could be a _very_ dangerous task. I have no idea what enchantments protect the item, although I’m certain they could prove deadly; Tom Riddle’s diary, as you know, nearly killed Ginny Weasley as well as yourself, and Gaunt’s ring damaged my hand beyond any repair.  You do not have to go with me if you chose not to.”

“No,” Harry said, “I’m coming.”

“Very well,” the headmaster nodded, “I would advise you to rest and eat well before our quest – you will quite possibly need strength.”

Harry nodded.

“Meet me on the Astronomy Tower at dusk,” Dumbledore instructed before Harry left.

 

 

_________________

 

 

Harry fell onto a sofa in the Gryffindor common room.

“What’d Dumbledore want?” Ron asked.

Making certain not to be overheard, Harry answered, “To tell me he found a horcrux.”

“What?” Ron and Hermione asked at the same time.

“Yeah.  We’re gonna go get it tonight.”

Ron and Hermione shared a look before the girl asked, “So? What, is that all he said?”

“Yeah, did he give you any advice or anything?”

“Not besides to rest and eat well before we go,” Harry rolled his eyes. 

Ron scoffed, “That’s pretty obvious; I thought Dumbledore was supposed to be the greatest wizard ever, and that’s the advice he’s got? ‘Rest and eat’?”

“He seemed distracted,” Harry confessed, “I dunno; he and Snape were arguing just before…”

Hermione frowned, “About what?”

 

“Not sure exactly.  Snape was mad that Dumbledore had asked him to do something – no clue what – and was questioning some plan Dumbledore had; Snape said he was tired of risking his neck for him and asked if he thought him dying would actually help whatever this plan was…” 

The blood drained from Hermione’s face; Snape’s comment about him not having another chance to tell her how he felt suddenly made sense: he thought he was going to die tonight.

 

Jumping up, she bolted out of Gryffindor tower and ran full speed to Snape’s classroom; when she yanked open the door, Snape’s head snapped around from the blackboard.  Hermione stood just inside the room, panting to catch her breath for a moment before letting the door slam shut and slowly walking toward him, “Severus Snape, you dirty liar!”

 

He turned to look at her, “I beg your pardon?” 

“You heard me,” Hermione crossed her arms, “You didn’t ‘lose your senses’!  You thought last night was going to be the last one we spent together!”

Snape’s face lost what color it had. 

“You think you’re going to be killed tonight, don’t you?”

She saw Snape’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly; he nodded.

“How did you…?”

“Harry overheard you talking to Dumbledore,” Hermione said.

Snape lowered his eyes, “Ah.”

Walking around his desk, Hermione approached him and wrapped her arms around him, snuggly hugging him, “Why?” 

“To stop The Dark Lord.” 

Hermione pulled from him and backed away, standing against his desk, “That’s why you told me to stay in bed tonight! Well, I won’t! I’m not going to just let you die!” 

Snape suddenly looked at her then pounced; he pushed her against his desk, arms on either side of her, his knuckles white from gripping the wooden edge so tightly, caging her in; he snarled, “Yes you will. You will not get out of your bed tonight; you will let me die.” 

Her eyes watering, Hermione shook her head, “I can’t." 

“You can.  You have to.”

Tears spilling from her cocoa eyes, the student sniffled, “B – but I – I can’t…would you just let me die?”

Snape’s jaw tightened; he bared his teeth at her and shoved himself off the desk, “Get out.”


	18. The Astronomy Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Death Eaters invade Hogwarts and Hermione debates trying to prevent Snape's death.

Hermione was curled on her bed, shuddering spasmodically as she wept uncontrollably; Snape had all but said he would let her die.  Her heart was ripped from her chest, tearing the threads of the muscle. She had thought he loved her – no, she had been _certain;_ she had seen it in his eyes – darkness and mystery shrouding an incomprehensible complexity; felt it in his embrace – softness veiled by a harsh demeanor; and experienced it in his intimate touch – tenderness and passion concealed by his apathetic countenance…

_oh, Hermione, don’t be stupid; he was manipulating you. You know how practiced he is at it. He never felt anything more than arousal toward you; he used you merely for his own physical gratification…because you were vulnerable.  You’re so, so stupid, Hermione Granger!’_

She glanced out the window with swollen, red eyes; it was mid-afternoon, the sun beaming upon the grass and shimmering off the surface of the Black Lake. She sobbed in an undignified manner for many hours, her heart aching from the conversation with Severus, the knowledge of his impending death, and the realization that he didn’t love her as she had thought. 

Convulsively gasping, Hermione tossed her blankets from her body, and leapt out of bed, ‘ _I don’t care if he doesn’t love me; I love him and I will not let him die!’_

 

She threw on her sweater over her pajamas and rushed out of the Gryffindor common room, bolted down the stairs and dashed through the hallway, sprinting out the castle doors.  Shivering against the evening breeze, Hermione was glad she had snatched her sweater, although she should have slipped on her trainers, for the path was littered with pebbles and acorns, which made her wince each time her step landed the flexor in the bottom of her foot directly on the small object.  Racing down the stone path, she prayed she would make it in time. Flinging open the tower door, she paused for a second to catch her breath before tearing up the spiral steps. As quickly as her legs would take her, Hermione leapt up two steps at once – sometimes three. Near the top flights of stairs, she heard the telltale rush of air that came with Apparation, then Harry’s voice saying, “We need to get you to the hospital wing, sir, to Madam Pomfrey.”

Apparently Dumbledore and Harry had returned from their horcrux-seeking expedition.

“No,” Dumbledore’s voice was shaky, “Severus. Severus is who I need; go and wake him.”

Several noises came from behind Hermione, and she heard the door to the tower open and close.  Suddenly remembering that Harry had heard Snape say that Death Eaters were going to be in the castle, Hermione panicked and darted to hide behind an iron pillar of the staircase. Carefully peeking out from behind her shield, she saw a pair of legs climb the last several steps.

“Good evening, Draco,” she heard Dumbledore say conversationally.

“Who else is here?” Draco demanded, “I heard you talking.” 

Dumbledore then began to speak to Draco as though he was talking down a criminal who had taken hostages.

“Don’t you understand?” Draco’s voice trembled, “I have to do this; I have to kill you, or He’s gonna kill me.”

Hermione didn’t hear how Dumbledore responded because her attention was captured by four more pairs of legs ascend the steps. 

“Well, look what we have here,” Bellatrix spoke; Hermione swallowed nervously. 

“Well done, Draco,” the woman cooed, “Do it.”

A voice Hermione didn’t recognize – that of Amycus Carrow – said, “He doesn’t have the stomach.”

Another man, Fenrir Greyback, spoke, “Let me finish him in my own way.”

“No!” Bellatrix snapped, “The Dark Lord has clearly said the boy is to do it.” 

Hermione watched fearfully through the steps as Bellatrix stepped toward Draco, “Go on, Draco, do it.  Now!”

“No.” Hermione’s stomach simultaneously leapt to her throat and dropped to the floor; that had been Snape’s voice, and this was surely when he thought he was going to be killed. 

Without thinking, Hermione dashed up the stairs to join the six others atop the tower, “Severus!” 

Snape’s black eyes snapped to his student and widened only slightly. 

Amycus purred, “Ah, is this the girl, Severus?  The friend of Potter’s you’ve been shagging?  She is quite alluring – for Mudblood filth.” Snape’s eyes locked onto Carrow’s as the latter licked his lips.

Voldemort hissed, “Yes, I said you could have Snape’s Mudblood.”

Amycus spoke with obvious deviance,  “I had no idea she was this enticing; yes, I think I will very much enjoy _having_ her.”

Snape’s lip curled in disgust at Amycus’s words. 

“Draco, are you going to ignore this perfect opportunity to rid us of _‘the greatest wizard alive’_?” Voldemort said smoothly.

His eyes flooding with panic, Draco flicked his wand between Dumbledore and Hermione, aiming it at each in turn.

Snape stepped in front of the boy, “No.”

Snape lifted his wand to the headmaster and spoke, “ _Avada Kedavra_.” 

Hermione gasped in shock as Dumbledore crumpled to the floor. 

“Severus!” Voldemort hissed, “What did you just do?  Draco was who I instructed to kill Dumbledore, not you!”

Snape’s eyes shifted automatically to Hermione, looking for a reaction at his murderous action. She realized that the killing of Albus Dumbledore was what Snape assumed would make her hate him; her mouth slightly open in surprise, the girl met his gaze and held it for several seconds.

Voldemort glanced between the two, observing the student and professor; his voice oily, he spoke, “What is this exchange I see?”

The teacher looked at Voldemort.  The Dark Wizard submerged himself into Snape’s mind.

 

_Snape was gazing into the girl’s eyes…he smoothly and slowly inserted himself into her, watching her expression with adoration…he spoke, ‘Hermione. I – God – I love you so much; I need you to – to know that.’_

 

Voldemort’s lip curled in disgust.

 

_‘I would do anything for you – anything.’_

Sneering, The Dark Lord spoke smoothly, “How interesting.  How…touching.”

Snape gulped nervously.

“Can this be true?  Do you…do you… _love_ …this Mudblood?”

The lingering glance Snape then shared with Hermione was answer enough.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Severus,” Voldemort sighed, “This just won’t do.”

Quickly looking at Fenrir and Amycus, Voldemort gave a tiny nod; each Death Eater grabbed one of Hermione’s upper arms roughly and dragged her, kicking and screeching, violently thrashing in an attempt to free herself, down the steps of the Astronomy Tower. 

“What are you doing?” Snape snarled at The Dark Lord, “Where are you taking her?”

As though bored, Voldemort lazily replied, “Oh, don’t worry; you’ll find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fairly short chapter; sorry. I only wanted this one scene to be in it.


	19. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenrir and Amycus have captured Hermione and take her to Malfoy Manor.  
> Snape is helpless to save her and his self-loathing increases.

While Fenrir’s werewolf-like nails painfully dug into her flesh, causing droplets of blood to emerge, Hermione was more terrified by the too-delicate grip of Amycus, whose fingers would occasionally softly brush back and forth over her arm ominously; he was _petting_ her. The Death Eaters had cast a _visus inanis_ charm on the girl as soon as they had dragged her out of the Astronomy Tower; she could see nothing, her sight stolen from her, only blackness pressing on her eyes. Crunching of pebbles and leather scraping on rock were the only things Hermione heard other than Fenrir’s growls on her right and Amycus panting on her left; the latter reeked of bad cologne that had gone stale excessively applied over sweat and dirt, while Fenrir stunk of decomposition and blood.  Hermione heard the quick scrape of iron followed by a hinge swinging; her captors forced her ahead a few more paces before each of their grips greatly tightened needlessly and the girl was engulfed in darkness, pressure, and wind, the clutches on her arms never ceasing.  They had Apparated away from Hogwarts. The Death Eaters pulled her along what sounded like a gravel pathway for a short way before she was hoisted by her arms up two steps and the nearly imperceptible squeak of another hinge met Hermione’s ears before she was shoved into a room, Amycus and Fenrir’s grasp never lessening. Several soft clicks of high heels told her that a woman was approaching her.

“What’s this, Carrow?” a female voice asked, demanding and worried.

Amycus answered the voice, “The Mudblood Snape’s been screwing; she decided to show her pretty little face on the Tower tonight.  The Dark Lord wanted us to grab her – dunno why – but here she is. I think I’ll occupy myself with her until He gets back…”

The woman – Narcissa Malfoy – snapped, “You will not!  Not until The Dark Lord permits it.  Put her in the basement until His return. Now.”

“Get her,” Amycus demanded; Fenrir roughly grabbed Hermione’s waist and threw her over his shoulder; a minute later, another door opened and she felt that the werewolf was descending a set of stairs.  Once he had come to a stop, Hermione was thrown onto a dirty, cold, stone floor, her face crashing forcefully into the solid surface; she felt blood leak from her nose and tasted the metallic liquid in her mouth. She heard Fenrir stomp back up the stairs and then the door as it opened and slammed closed. 

Shivering in the cold, damp air, Hermione was overcome with fear; she had no idea where she was, what was going to happen to her, or if she would ever make it out. She sobbed into the dusty stone floor, her unseeing eyes pouring out salty tears that stung her busted lip when they dripped over it.  She silently cried, gasping soundlessly for air, the icy breaths constricting her lungs. The tears were not for herself; they were for Snape – she had intended to save his life, but had apparently only made things worse for him. 

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire_.

 

_________________

 

She must have eventually fallen asleep, for she was jerked from her shallow, unrestful slumber two hours later when the door to the basement was violently ripped open, slamming into the wall. 

Although whoever had whipped open the door descended the stairs rather swiftly, the sound of the enterer’s footsteps on the concrete stairs seemed to Hermione as though they were only creeping into the basement – she was so very afraid.

The footfalls approached her and remained still for a moment before the sharp, high-pitched voice of Voldemort hissed, “Remarkable.”

Hermione’s form ceased its trembling and she groaned feebly, attempting to reply with a clippy retort, but her voice wouldn’t go any farther than the lump in her throat.

“It’s odd, you see,” Voldemort continued, “I despise you and those like you, Mudblood, however I must, unfortunately, admit that I admire your bravery. Foolish as it was, you faced my Death Eaters and were determined to prevent a man’s death.  Even I, as powerful and resilient I am, find your foolhardy action remarkable.”  The wizard sighed, “It’s such a shame that you are so undeserving of your abilities. Your resolve is a trait on which I place much value.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes in the direction of the voice.

“So defiant, even in the face of peril,” Voldemort spoke, “ _Crucio!_ ”

Hermione’s body was overcome with pain, and she screamed.

Hermione had no idea how long he tortured her; excruciating pain ripped through her entire body; her organs were boiling, her limbs were being torn from her body, she was drowning, and her skin was being slowly peeled away.

 

_________________

 

Yaxley shoved the cloaked man ahead, up the gravel drive.  Snape cast a murderous glare over his shoulder at him. Pushing the man between the shoulder blades again, Yaxley taunted, “C’mon, the sooner we get there, the sooner you get to see your Mudblood…who knows what state she’ll be in, though…”

Fenrir opened the door to the Malfoy’s once Yaxley and his prisoner arrived; he growled at Snape.  Once inside, Yaxley pushed Snape into a dining chair.

“What’s going on?” Narcissa hurried over, “Severus, what’s happened?”

Snape looked up at the blonde woman to reply, but Fenrir responded, “That Mudblood in the basement?  That’s the girl he’s been entertaining himself with.”

The woman’s blue eyes flitted between Snape and Fenrir, questioning.

“Apparently, it wasn’t just a physical connection; it seems Severus here actually _cares_ for the girl.”

“Severus?” Narcissa blinked at the man; he was silent, but wouldn’t meet her eyes

 

_________________

 

 

Hermione bawled into the floor, her body aching from the torture. 

Lucius looked down at the girl on his basement floor, “I remember you,” he sneered, “the Granger girl who was so… _outspoken_ …about using The Dark Lord’s name four years ago.  How do you feel about it now?”

Hermione sniffled. 

“ _Crucio!_ ” Lucius drawled; Hermione screamed in pain.

 

The shriek rang through the floor and into the dining room; Snape glared at the three Death Eaters around him, “Let her go.” 

“I don’t think so, Severus,” Yaxley snapped

Lucius continued the torture of Hermione, never giving her any semblance of a reprieve, for twenty minutes.

 

 

Walking through the door, into the dining room, Lucius brushed his hands together as if having just completed a trying task, “All yours,” he said to Bellatrix. 

Bellatrix and her sister left the room; she, Narcissa, Fenrir and Yaxley entered the basement, the last having cast an immobulus charm on Snape. 

“You’re sure she’s the one?” Narcissa Malfoy questioned.

Bellatrix sneered, “Positive; she’s the same dirt from the Department of Mysteries last year.” The witch laughed cruelly, “I’ve wanted to get the little bitch back ever since then.”

Hermione trembled slightly.  Bellatrix approached her, yanked her up by her shoulder, and stood less than a foot away from her, “Payback time, sweetie.  _defaeco neam crux sano_!"

Excruciating pain that ripped through Hermione; it was as though her bones were made of lava, her blood of acid, and her muscles of fire. Invisible shards of glass were slicing every inch of her skin, relentlessly gouging deep holes all over her, blood pouring from each. She felt her mouth open, and she guessed that she was screaming, but she could hear no sound other than the blood rushing in her ears and the flesh being stripped from her body.

 

Snape heard Hermione’s shriek of agony, hating himself for allowing her to become involved in his mess, and cursing himself for being unable to help her.

Voldemort strolled into the room and looked at Snape for a moment before saying, “This is your fault, Severus.”

Cutting his dark eyes to Voldemort, Snape spoke through gritted teeth, “She has nothing to do with this; she doesn’t know anything.” 

“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Voldemort said silkily, “But you, you do. And I think this Mudblood is the way to get whatever information you have out of you.”  The cruel man looked thoughtful for a moment before sighing, “No? Perhaps you need to witness what you’re allowing her to endure.”

Snape glared at Voldemort as He flicked his wand to remove the _immobulus_ charm. 

“ _Imperio_ ,” Voldemort hissed, and Snape began walking with The Dark Lord to the door that led to the basement; once he had forced Snape to walk down the stairs, Voldemort summoned the dining chair, had Snape sit, restored the _immobulus_ charm, and removed the _Imperius Curse._  

Bellatrix had turned to watch Voldemort, and left Hermione on the floor. 

“Do carry on, Bella,” The dark Lord said casually.

Sneering, Bellatrix looked back at Hermione, “ _defaeco neam crux sano_!"

Seeing the girl in such agony, weakening to the brink of death before being restored to endure torment again, Snape despised every Death Eater there, himself most of all, “Stop this!  I’m begging you; let her go!” he exclaimed.

Voldemort gazed uncaringly at Snape, “What do you know about Potter?”

Shaking his head, Snape feebly replied, “Nothing, I swear it.  Stop hurting her!” 

“You know something, Severus, and I will torture this girl until you reveal it to me.” 

Hermione was sobbing on the floor, her body drenched in blood as she trembled.

“Hermione!” Snape exclaimed.

 

 

_________________

 

After what felt like hours, the curse was lifted, leaving Hermione on the floor, bloodied and shaking. 

Another voice spoke the incantation, and the girl convulsed uncontrollably, growing weaker and weaker as she lost what seemed like gallons of blood as Hermione shrieked.

“Let’s not make her too weak,” Fenrir suggested, “Amycus prefers a little fight left in them.”

Someone flicked their wand, and Hermione felt her pajamas vanish; she became nauseous. From what she heard, Voldemort and the Death Eaters left the basement.

“Hermione,” Snape quietly spoke, “I’m so, so sorry.  God, I’m sorry…I never wanted this – ”

His words were cut off by the sound of the heavy door opening again, and another pair of feet walked down the steps. 

 

Amycus Carrow eyed Hermione hungrily; Snape recalled the things he had seen Carrow think about inflicting on her and snarled, “Don’t touch her!”

Amycus looked at Snape tauntingly as he knelt beside Hermione, “You don’t want to watch?” He took out a small knife and cut away Hermione’s bra.  Pawing at the flesh, Carrow squeezed Hermione’s breasts, the girl too weak to do more than feebly slap at his hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“She is a beauty, Severus,” Carrow commented as he groped Hermione, running his hands over her stomach, arms, shoulders, and chest, “You have good taste,” he paused, “so far, but I can’t be certain just yet…”

Horrified, Snape watched helplessly as Carrow sliced the sides of his student’s panties and pushed the pile of fabric aside.  Hermione clenched her legs together, eyes wide in terror. Carrow, however, was stronger and determined to have what he had been promised; he shoved her thighs open and looked at Snape, “You better watch this – you better watch me fuck your Mudblood whore." 

Snape growled, “I swear I will kill you, Amycus Carrow; I swear it.”

Unconcerned, Amycus licked his lips and brought his hand to Hermione’s body, narrating to Snape, “She certainly is soft…innocent…warm…” he ran his fingers over Hermione as she silently sobbed, struggling as much as she could.

Looking back at the immobilized man, Amycus questioned, “Tell me, Severus, how tight did you say she was?” he laughed mockingly, “Why am I asking you? I’ll just find out for myself.” he pushed his fingers inside Hermione, who shrieked and began sobbing again.

“Amycus, you better hope the Aurors kill you,” Snape snarled, “Because when I get the chance, I will make you wish you hadn’t even been a thought to your mother, you filth.  I will make _certain_ this is the action you regret the most, out of all the other awful things you’ve done, you will regret this the most.”

“Actually, Severus, I don’t believe I’ll regret this a bit,” Carrow remarked, “She’s so small, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was a child…my favorite. No, I won’t regret fucking her at all.”


	20. Madness at Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in captivity, Snape and Hermione are tormented, Voldemort attempting to convince Snape to give him information in exchange for ending the torture of the girl.
> 
> Amycus Carrow uses a different method of torture on Hermione, infuriating the professor.

 

“Carrow!” Voldemort tossed open the basement door, “Don’t defile her just yet; let the Mudblood dread it while we express the extent of our disappointment to Severus." 

Carrow eyed The Dark Lord, “Sir, I was told – by you – that I could use the girl.”

Voldemort snapped, “And you can, Amycus, but I think we should give her he chance to fear what is to come; that is dreadful, to hopelessly wait for your suffering. We should deal with the discipline of Severus, the traitor, first.”

Sneering cruelly, Carrow responded, “Right.”  He stood and looked down at the now-nude girl and assured her, “I’ll be back soon enough to destroy that pretty little pussy of yours.”

 

_________________

 

Voldemort slowly strolled toward Snape, his pale feet making no sound as they crossed the solid floor; the wizard ran his long fingers over his slender, bone-white wand. As his red eyes pierced into the professor, Voldemort clicked his tongue in disappointment, quick, sharp hisses slipping through his teeth, “Tss, tss, Severus, my friend, my faithful follower…or so I had thought.  Look at what you’ve done.”

“I – I killed Albus Dumbledore.”

“True,” The Dark Lord sniffed, “But you have been involved in an affair with this Mudblood filth.”

After an ominous pause, Voldemort hissed, “ _Crucio_!”

Snape clenched his teeth, holding back an outcry of pain, but his face contorted in pain as he tossed his head back, flinching and spasming violently. 

The Dark Lord and the Carrow continuously kept the Cruciatus Curse on Snape for over an hour.

 

“ _defaeco neam crux sano_!” Voldemort snapped; Snape couldn’t hold back a yell of agony. He felt a growing wet warmth at the collar and sleeve of his robes as he twitched uncontrollably.

“St-stop it,” Hermione hoarsely whispered – a whisper was all she could manage, “Please.”

Voldemort didn’t acknowledge her, but Carrow looked back at Hermione and mocked, “Please, I love him, don’t hurt him, wah wah wah.”

Glaring at the defected Death Eater, Voldemort sneered, “You enjoy having intimate encounters with that Mudblood on the floor?  That…that… _thief_ of magic?”

Mustering as much energy as possible and all of her bravery, Hermione spoke clearly, “I’m a thief of magic?  Tell me, how hard did you work to get yours?  How did you _earn_ your abilities?”

The Dark Lord glanced at Carrow, “That’s enough for now.  Let us teach this pathetic Mudblood a lesson,” He turned to Hermione, “ _defaeco neam crux sano_.”

Hermione shrieked as the curse hit her, writhing in agony and slowly bleeding out repeatedly; Snape couldn’t bear to watch her in such anguish, lowering his eyes to his shaking hands. 

Her screams echoed through the house for three hours as Voldemort and Carrow used the new torture curse on Hermione nonstop the entire time.

 

“I think I’ve gotten as much entertainment out of this girl as I can,” Voldemort commented; He and Carrow lifted the spells.  “Do you still wish to _use_ her, Amycus?” 

Carrow nodded, “Absolutely.”  At Voldemort’s nod of permission as He left the basement, Carrow returned to the floor by Hermione andcontinued his heartless taunting of Snape. He stroked her slowly, roughly grabbed her breasts and pet her most intimate parts.   He shoved three digits into Hermione, calmly questioning Snape, “You didn’t totally break her in, did you? She wouldn’t be sobbing so much if you had’ve trained her right.” 

Snape snarled at the man.

Amycus attempted to press his mouth to Hermione’s, but she turned her head away from him; the Death Eater settled with dragging his tongue up her neck. He licked his lips greedily, “Sweet. Not quite as delectable as the little ones I’ve had, but pleasing enough; I prefer the under-tens… Should I find out how your Mudblood’s pussy compares to the younger ones flavor?”

Boiling with rage, Snape’s hatred of the man grew – although he didn’t believe it possible – when he thought about Amycus’s tongue on Hermione – _his_ Hermione.  The professor was appalled at how cavalier Carrow was being about the molestation and rape of _children_. He had never wanted anyone to suffer as much as he desired to watch Carrow experience unimaginable agony.

A loud crash came from a floor above, followed by shouts and thuds, shattering glass, and screams. Glancing up at the ceiling of the basement, Amycus frowned, “Guess there’s no time to taste,” he forced Hermione’s legs farther apart, enough to allow him to kneel between them. As he released his erection, Carrow sneered, “Don’t you dare look away, Severus; I want you to see what I’m doing to her.” 

Hermione was shaking violently, tears streaming from her chocolate eyes as she shook her head, whispering, “Please.  Don’t. _Please_.”

 

_________________

 

The basement door crashed open and the room was flooded in light; a familiar woman’s voice snapped, “Get off her, you scum.”  Carrow was flung off Hermione, sliding across the floor..

 

“Minerva!” Snape hoarsely called out, “How did you –?”

“I would explain, Severus, but I’m a little busy at the moment,” McGonagall flicked her wand, immobilizing Amycus, returned Hermione what faculties she could, then released Snape from his invisible restraints.

Diving down to the floor on his knees beside his student, Snape’s eyes flitted over her in panic, “Hermione?  It’s okay now.” 

The girl groaned in pain as she attempted to sit upright; Snape lifted her upper body to allow her to sit, although it was rather wobbly.  He wiped a drop of blood dripping from her hairline off her forehead and desperately embraced her; Hermione bawled into his shoulder. 

McGonagall sighed, “Professor Snape certainly deserves that; Heaven knows what would have happened had he not come for you.”

“Th-thank- thank you, s - sir,” Hermione’s voice shook as they parted from the hug.

Snape cleared his throat, “Certainly, Miss Gr-Miss Granger; it would be a terrible loss to the school should anything happen to you.”

He stood, although he would rather have stayed next to Hermione; Snape knew that doing so would seem odd – for he was a teacher, Hermione a student. He averted his eyes from her naked body, which he should never have seen, especially before that evening of their capture.

Snape looked at McGonagall, “How did – ?” 

McGonagall flicked her wand, a large towel appearing, and gingerly wrapped it around Hermione before she answered Snape’s question, “The Fat Lady; she alerted us that Miss Granger had left Gryffindor Tower just before midnight; Hagrid said that he saw three people leave through the gates. As Miss Granger was missing, and all other students were accounted for, we concluded she had been captured by someone. We contacted The Order, and began searching.”

“Take Miss Granger to Madam Pomfrey, if you would, Minerva,” Snape requested, “I have a few people I need to… _talk to_ ,” his dark eyes fell to Carrow, unmoving, on the floor.

McGonagall nodded, handed Snape his wand, saying, “Idiots left them on the mantle.”

She escorted a weary Hermione out of the basement.

_________________

 

Snape heard the basement door close; he immediately turned to the unconscious man on the stone floor, “ _Rennervate_.”

Amycus stirred and opened his eyes to see Snape’s face stony and his dark eyes enraged.

“Well,” Snape spoke in victorious wrath, “It seems my chance to make you regret what you did to Hermione has come sooner rather than later.”

“Se-Severus,” Amycus cowered against the wall, “Please – I do; I regret it. Don’t.”

Sneering, Snape glared down at the man, “Those words…sound very… _familiar_ …didn’t she use the same ones when she begged you not to touch her?  And you showed no mercy; it seems fitting that you should also be shown none.”

“I’m sorry! Severus, you can’t! I regret what I did – was going to do, believe me, I regret it.”

“Not enough,” Snape spat before Cursing the man.  As Carrow thrashed on the floor, Snape snarled, “You are despicable. This is less than you deserve.”

Although he had never used the curse Bellatrix had created, Snape thought Amycus Carrow’s actions actually justified it, “ _defaeco neam crux sano._ ”  The professor observed the Death Eater experience agony repeatedly for at least forty minutes before he ended the curse.

“Do you know what you are, Carrow?  Nothing. Scum. _Sectumsempra._ ”

Snape watched as gashes were gouged into Amycus, blood pooling on the floor as he screamed in pain.  His breath slowly became labored and ragged; after an hour and a half, Amycus stilled and drew no more breaths.


	21. Letifer Ludo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, the victim of a very rare curse. Snape combats guilt and considers visiting the Grangers.

“It seems your friends have been diligent this time, Severus,” Voldemort had returned only moments after Ministry officials had left the Malfoy home, being sure to send the other hostages directly to St. Mungo’s.  The Dark Lord sneered, “You forced me to react, Severus, and you’ve slithered away yet again.  I have no choice but to let you leave and return to the school, and to your Mudblood, but I believe there will soon come a time when you will have to decide where your loyalties lie.”

 

_________________

 

 

“How is she?”

McGonagall sighed heavily before answering, “It looks like whatever spell they used on her did some serious damage…she fell asleep not a moment after she laid down, and she hasn’t woken since.  It’s been nearly twelve hours, Severus.  I think her parents should be informed.”

Raising an eyebrow thoughtfully for a moment before responding, Snape nodded, “Yes, you’re probably correct.”

“I’ll go write them now.”

Snape stopped her as she turned to leave, “No, I should tell them. After all, it was I who was with her.”

McGonagall gave a sharp nod, “Right.  I would try to get it out as soon as possible, so they will receive it sooner.”

Snape cleared his throat, “I – I believe I should tell them in person. I’ll go tomorrow around lunchtime.”

Giving her colleague perplexed a look, McGonagall questioned, “Do you think it necessary?" 

“Necessary; no.  The proper thing to do; yes.”

McGonagall sighed as she nodded before giving the man a faint smile and leaving. Snape watched the door close behind her, then fell into the chair beside the bed Hermione occupied and looked at the student; she was obviously asleep, although it wasn’t a natural sleep – her chest was rising and falling much too slowly and her eyelids were fluttering rapidly as her hands twitched.  Snape sighed and rested his hand on the back of hers, giving it a light squeeze; her skin was searing hot.

Madam Pomfrey entered the room; when Snape lifted his dark eyes to her, she was startled to see that they were red and filled with moisture. After faltering for a moment, doing a double take, she coughed softly, “Severus…you should get some rest.”

He ignored her advice, but asked in an extremely hoarse voice, “What is it, Poppy? Do you – do you know?”

The Healer answered, “Yes, Severus.  It appears Miss Granger was the victim of a very rare spell – I’ve only ever seen one other case; it’s _letifer ludo_.”

He didn’t like the sound of that; Snape knew enough basic Latin to recognize that ‘ _letifer_ ’ meant ‘death’; he held his forehead in his palm.

Madam Pomfrey offered that she thought was a reassuring smile before she commented, “I take it you are aware that _letifer_ translates to death.”

Snape nodded.

“Severus, do you know the meaning of _ludo_? It translates to imitate, or mimic; she will be fine, it will just take a few days.”

“Damn it, woman, why didn’t you start with that information?” Snape growled.

“As I said, you should get some rest.”

Grunting in acknowledgment, Snape didn’t respond.

Madam Pomfrey left with a quiet, “Good night, Severus.”

With the Healer headed to bed, Snape moved to sit on the edge of Hermione’s bed, taking her hand again.  He gazed down at her and quietly spoke, “I’m so sorry.  So sorry,” Leaning over her, Snape brought his lips to the girl’s forehead as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand sliding down her neck with tenderness and care.

Bustling back to lock the doors to the patients’ room, Madam Pomfrey stopped short when she saw through the small window of the door that Snape was pressing his mouth against Hermione Granger’s forehead, his hand cradling her neck.  The Healer smiled to herself, but didn’t react in any other way; Severus Snape was acting in a way she had never seen him behave. She shook her head slightly and left, smiling to herself. 

 

_________________ 

 

Returning to the infirmary at around six in the morning, Madam Pomfrey was in disbelief when she saw that Snape was still sitting in the chair beside Hermione’s bed, bent over, his head on the mattress beside the girl.

Jolting awake at the sound of the door closing, Snape jumped slightly and looked around. He checked his pocket watch to see that it was early morning; needing to visit Mr. and Mrs. Granger that afternoon, Snape returned his forehead to rest on the bed for a couple more hours. He gave a small yawn before slurring, “Pompee, willoo get m’up at elvin pliss?”

Madam Pomfrey smiled knowingly and nodded, “Of course.”

 

“How is Miss Granger?” McGonagall asked as she entered the hospital wing.

“No change,” Madam Pomfrey replied.

Peering over the Healer’s shoulder, McGonagall saw a hunched form donning dark robes at Hermione’s bedside, “Wh – Who is that, Poppy?  Is it Mister Potter, or perhaps Mister Weasley?”

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, “He hasn’t left her side.”

“What? Who hasn’t?”

“Minerva, that’s Severus,” Madam Pomfrey said in a hushed tone.

McGonagall’s eyes widened slightly, “Did you say he hasn’t left her side?”

“Not once.”

 

_________________

 

 

Madam Pomfrey lightly tapped Snape’s shoulder at a quarter ‘til eleven; he stirred and slowly sat up, saying, “Thank you, Poppy.  I should clean up a bit before I leave.”

The woman gave a nod, gesturing toward the bathroom, “Go ahead, dear.”

Although he was hesitant about leaving Hermione’s side, concerned that she might wake up and find him missing, Snape decided to quickly cast a cleansing charm on himself and his robes so that he wouldn’t need to shower before visiting Hyde Terrace. 

Snape insisted that Madam Pomfrey notify him if Hermione woke or her health state change, then he strode out of the castle and out of the school grounds; he Apparated at exactly eleven, arriving at the Granger residence seconds later. Unsure if they would recall him, he hesitantly rang the doorbell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the uneventful and short chapter. I don't like to do a change-of-scene mid-chapter; I don't know why.


	22. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape continues to blame himself for Hermione's state. He visits the Granger resistance, bringing news of their daughter's condition before returning to Hermione's side in the infirmary.

A few seconds passed before Snape saw a shadowy figure approach the door; it slowly cracked open and the professor saw a pair of hazel eyes peer out at him.

“Professor,” Mrs. Granger smiled and opened the door, calling over her shoulder, “Thomas! It’s the professor from Hermione’s school!”

Snape smiled faintly, pleased that she had recognized him; his face then turned somber, “May I come in? I’m afraid I have…unfortunate news.”

Mrs. Granger’s face went slightly pale as she stammered, “Yes – yes, of – of course…”

Snape gave a nod and entered the foyer.

“Thomas!” Jeanne shouted, “You need to come in here!” She led Snape into the sitting room, “Have – have a seat. Thomas!”

Mr. Granger hurried into the room as Snape sat in the living chair. After Hermione’s parents had sat, Snape sighed, “This past Saturday, Hermione was…captured by the enemy.”

“Vuldemord?” Thomas Granger asked.

Nodding, Snape continued, “Yes. Voldemort and His followers invaded Hogwarts, taking several students ‘hostage’ a few weeks ago; on Saturday, they returned, and, when they left, your daughter was seized. She is alive, however, I regret to say she was tortured extensively.”

The husband and wife looked at one another before Mrs. Granger asked, “How…how extensively?”

Snape lowered his eyes to his hands, “Very extensively. To give you a bit of perspective, there are three Unforgivable Curses, each of which will send the caster to Azkaban – our prison. One of these is the Cruciatus Curse – the torture curse; many who have experienced this Curse have gone insane as a result. The curse used on Hermione was one created by one of the most spiteful of Voldemort’s followers, and is much worse than the Cruciatus Curse.”

“Oh Heavens!” Mrs. Granger burst into tears, while Mr. Granger looked livid.

“Are you here to tell us that Hermione was tortured into madness?” the man asked.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape answered, “While it is possible that could have been the result, she wasn’t tortured for an amount of time it would take for that to be likely. The men who tortured your daughter are cruel, hateful men, but Hermione has been in the hospital wing, getting monitored and cared for since she arrived back at the school and she will wake soon.”

Mrs. Granger looked at Snape with sodden eyes, “Men?” she sniffled, “Do you – do you know if she was…”

Snape’s face became stony, “She wasn’t raped. Another teacher rescued us before that could happen, although it was close."

Jeanine gave a sigh of relief, while Thomas furrowed his brow, “Did you say another teacher ‘rescued us’?”

Nodding solemnly, Snape cleared his throat, “I was captured as well.” He sighed and looked at his feet, continuing in a shaking voice, “If I’m being honest, Hermione wouldn’t have been tormented as much had it not been for me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Granger asked.

“The people who took her thought that I would be more likely to divulge information if I witnessed her torture and abuse.”

Exchanging another look, the Grangers frowned before Jeanine questioned, “Wh-why would they think that?”

Snape slowly closed his eyes before answering, “As I said before, I would gladly give my life to spare hers,” he paused before adding, “Because she is my weakness.”

Thomas Granger eyed Snape incredulously for a brief moment before nodding.

Sniffling, Jeanine questioned, “Y-you said that she wo-would wake up soon…do you have any idea how soon?”

“Although I cannot be sure, I believe a week would be a reasonable estimate,” Snape ran his fingers over his forehead, stressed.

“Is there any way we could see her when she does wake up?” Mr. Granger asked.

After furrowing his brow for a moment, Snape sighed, “I, personally, don’t have the authority to say; Muggles have never been to the school. However, I may be able to persuade the Headmistress to allow it – she is a reasonable woman. Either way, I ensure you I will to write you as soon as Hermione wakes.”

“You’re a good man, Mister Snape,” Thomas said gratefully.

Mrs. Granger nodded in agreement with her husband, “Yes, you certainly are.”

The couple stood, assuming the visit was over; however, when Snape stood, he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I apologize, but there is another matter I would like to discuss, if you have the time.”

“Of course,” Mr. Granger said; the three sat once again.

Stretching his hands anxiously, Snape’s eyes settled on a framed photograph of Thomas, Jeanine, and Hermione that sat on the mantle. Returning his gaze to the husband and wife, Snape attempted to broach the subject as delicately as possible, “I believe you both are already aware of the non-academic…connection your daughter and I share…” Thomas and Jeanine each gave a tiny nod. “I merely wish to explain that I realize there are nineteen years separating us; I know how unorthodox this is. My association with Hermione is, however, an honest one; I assure you that I have the noblest of intentions. I care very much for her.”

Jeanine, Thomas, and Snape looked at one another for a very long moment before Thomas furrowed his brow, “Mister Snape, are you saying that you are…in a relationship with Hermione?”

Snape cleared his throat, “Actually, I’m saying that I am in love with her.”

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked at the professor in startled scrutiny for several minutes; Snape became very nervous – he had never been as concerned about The Dark Lord’s wrath as he was about Hermione’s parents’ reaction. His stomach simultaneously tightened and churned.

After a few moments, Thomas smiled warmly, “I stand by what I said: you’re a good man.”

After staying for another half hour, conversing with Hermione’s parents, Snape dismissed himself and Apparated from the sidewalk outside their home.

* * *

 

Arriving just outside the Hogwarts grounds, Snape hurried across the lawn, his strides even longer than usual.

After what seemed to Snape like decades, he arrived at the hospital wing; rushing in, Snape was filled with conflicting emotions: disappointed to see that Hermione had still not woken, and yet relieved that she had not awakened while he had not been there to be the face she first saw.

Madam Pomfrey entered the infirmary a moment after Snape, “How did they take the news?”

“As well as could be expected. Is there any change?”

A faint frown coming to her face, the Healer responded, “Slight, if any. Her breathing may be getting a bit more normal.”

Approaching Hermione’s bed, Snape looked down at the girl; her skin had regained half a shade of its color, her eyelids didn’t seem to be fluttering as quickly, and her hands weren’t tremorring as violently. Of course, Madam Pomfrey couldn’t be expected to notice such a subtle change in the girl’s skin tone (Snape had spent so much time admiring Hermione that he would have noticed a quarter-shade difference), but he thought the Healer should have recognized that her shaking had lessened. “And her skin has gotten a bit of its color back,” Snape commented.

“Has it?”

There was a brief silence where they both observed the patient.

McGonagall entered the hospital wing and joined the two, asking, “How is Miss Granger doing?”

Clearing his throat softly, Snape sat in the chair beside Hermione’s bed before saying, “She seems to be shaking less.”

After eyeing the student for a moment, Madam Pomfrey nodded, “You’re right; she does. That is excellent; once she stops completely, she’ll be awake within the hour.”

“You’re certain?”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, “Yes.”

Snape sighed heavily yet again, taking Hermione’s hand in his. He felt a slight weight on his shoulder; he looked up with sodden eyes to see the McGonagall beside him, her hand on his shoulder.

“She’ll be fine,” she lightly squeezed his shoulder in encouragement, “No need to worry.”

“I did this to her,” Snape spoke barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Severus,” McGonagall shook her head, “Death Eaters did this to her.”

Turning an icy gaze to his colleague, Snape growled, “They did this to her because of me.”

Madam Pomfrey scoffed, “Stop trying to blame yourself, Severus.”

“But I am to blame,” he said miserably, “The Death Eaters knew that I would protect her, that I would do anything to keep her safe.”

The women exchanged an odd look of confusion.

“This is my fault,” Snape spoke in a quivering voice, “They wouldn’t have hurt her this much if they hadn’t known that.”

McGonagall sighed, “You can’t be certain of that.”

“I am,” he replied, “They would not have been this cruel if they hadn’t known that I would save her, that I’d give anything to spare her,” he paused before croaking, “that I love her.” Snape then lost all composure and broke down in tears, laying his face on the bed and sobbing into it.

McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey heard him saying through his weeping, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”


	23. The Search For Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Hermione still unconscious, Snape turns to the library to hunt for some answers, but three nosy Gryffindors are watching him

Only after Madam Pomfrey sworn to send a message via her corporeal Patronus to him if there was any change in Hermione’s state did Snape dare to leave the girl’s side to search the library for possible remedies to aid in overcoming a _letifer ludo_ curse.

He stalked up and down aisle after aisle of books, flipping through the indexes of several dozen books like Unwakable: Spells of Slumber before he decided to scour the Restricted Section.  Snape flicked his onyx eyes from spine to spine, desperately searching for something, for _anything_. He slid  The Magick of Death from a shelf and flipped to the index; he scanned through it, finding nothing. Shoving the book roughly back into its place between Magic Moste Menacing and The New Unforgivables, and taking out Never-Ending Sleep, Snape growled loudly.

Madam Pince swooped down on Snape, “Just what in heaven’s name are you shouting about, Severus?” she snapped.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Snape looked sideways at her, “I am in need of a book that contains information about the _letifer ludo_ curse.”

“Why are you in the Restricted Section, then?  Give me that,” she snatched the book Snape was holding from his hands, “Honestly!”

Snape glared at her, “It’s a death curse; surely that’s not in the general library.”

Whacking him on the forehead with Never-Ending Sleep, Madam Pince hissed, “No, it’s a _mimicking spell_ , you moronic man.”

After quickly recovering from the daze caused by the smack of a hardcover to his head, Snape asked all-too-calmly, “And just where would books on the topic of mimicking spells be?  I’ve been in this library hundreds of times and I daresay I’ve yet to see that section.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me.” The harsh-looking woman eyed him suspiciously for a moment before marching out of the Restricted Section. She had walked several aisles away before turning to snap, "Did you ask for my help or not?"

Snape frowned, nearly remarking that he had not, in fact, asked for the woman's help, but decided to let it go and accept her aid - he desperately needed to find something to help Hermione, and he thought sacrificing a moment of his usual superior attitude was a small price to pay for possibly hurrying Hermione's recovery, however slight that chance was.

 

 

Madam Pince walked swiftly through the rows of shelves, turning down aisles suddenly, disappearing momentarily from Snape’s view, voyaging to a very dark, dusty, and dank corner of the library, “Every book containing information about mimicking spells can be found in this section.”

Snape looked around at the area: it was, comparatively, a tiny nook of the library, but the library contained hundreds and hundreds of thousands of books; the little enclosure the librarian had let him to was the approximate size of a master bedroom suite, each wall packed with books, some enormous leather-bound, some no bigger than his hand, paper covers holding on by less than an inch at the seam.  Letting out an involuntary growl, Snape asked, “Exactly how many books are in this section?”

“Exactly?” Madam Pince frowned, “Assuming no one has checked one out – and they rarely do from this area – exactly thirty-seven thousand, six hundred forty eight.”

“And I’m looking for one chapter on an obscure topic in one book,” Snape grumbled before sighing, “Could you possibly narrow it down a bit?”

The librarian tightened her lips, “I think you can manage.”  She turned and left without another word, leaving Snape giving a murderous look at her back as she walked away.

Snape glared around at the shelves for a moment before he sighed and took out his wand, “ _Accio letifer ludo_ book.” He knew that was a silly command, and wasn’t surprised that nothing happened.  Grumbling briefly as he tried to think of an instruction that would work, Snape heard a hushed conversation behind him.

“What are you _doing_?” a girl’s voice asked.

“Mind your own business.  Get out of here,” a boy replied.

A second boy spoke, “She’s trying to help.” 

The first boy gave an exasperated sigh, “Fine.  Now, what do you reckon he’s looking for?” 

“Your brain, maybe?” the girl snipped. 

“Are you stalking us or something?  God, you’re so annoying; I still say mom should have let the garden gnomes have you.”

“Sod off,” Ginny Weasley barked at her brother.

“Tell me again, Harry, why’re we tailing Snape?”

Snape thought it was rather amusing that these three students had the impression that they could spy on him; he smirked, but remained silent as the not-so-hushed conversation continued.

“He killed Dumbledore, Ron!” Harry Potter sounded impatient and slightly irritated, “ _Remember?_ Why is it that he’s still around, like nothing happened?  Don’t the teachers _care_? Not to mention, we haven’t seen Hermione since that night, and I dunno, but he looked **furious** when she showed up on the Astronomy Tower…I think maybe he did something to her.” 

“Actually, Mister Potter,” Snape spoke without turning around, “Your friend is in the hospital wing.”

“How did you – ” Ron started.

“You three are hardly clandestine.”

Ginny spoke hesitantly, “Um, sir…why is Hermione in the hospital wing?” 

“Because he put her there, obviously!” Ron replied.

Slamming the book in his hands closed, Snape whirled around; his face was unimaginably pale with fury, his black eyes vicious, “I did no such thing. I wouldn’t.”  He placed his hand on the back of the wooden chair nearby, as if to steady himself, “Never.”  Snape collapsed into the chair and held his face in his hand, “You’re not fooling anyone, Severus; you are the reason she’s in the hospital.”

The three students blinked in bemusement at Professor Snape for a moment, watching him holding his forehead with one hand while the other feebly held a book, his fingers clearly shaking.

“So you **_did_** put her there!” Ron snarled. 

Snape slowly, very slowly, raised his head and lifted his eyes to the three; each student was startled and shocked that his usually cold eyes were swimming with tears. The professor’s voice strained not to crack as he replied, “I didn’t curse her, but I did directly cause the situation in which she was cursed.  So, yes, Mister Weasley, I did put her in the hospital.”

The two boys gave the man hateful glares; Ron demanded, “So, can we go see her? Get _her_ side of the story?”

“You can certainly visit her, but she is currently unconscious and can’t answer any questions.” 

Harry, Ron, and Ginny rushed out of the library to go see Hermione.

_________________

 

 

After (mostly) composing himself – which took nearly an hour – Snape resumed his search for information regarding the _letifer ludo_ curse. He had collected a hundred and fifty two books by using the command “ _Accio text on letifer ludo remedies_ ” and was currently seated at a table in an alcove, books stacked on the floor at his side, while at least eight books were opened to various pages; Snape flicked through chapter after chapter, reading paragraphs on the symptoms of the curse, scanning over reports given by those who had experienced it.   Nothing helped.  

Hours ticked by, and there sat Snape, feverishly searching for something to quicken Hermione’s recovery. 

It was nearing midnight when Madam Pince stepped to the table Snape had taken over, “Time to leave, Professor.  I’m closing the library.” 

“Fine,” Snape stood, “But I’m taking these.  And these.”

“Only two books can be checked out at a time.” 

Snape narrowed his eyes slightly, “I’m not checking them out; I’m taking them.”

“You will do no such thing.  You are going to leave these books right here.”

“The hell I am.” 

Madam Pince looked at him in silence for a moment, “Yes you will. You are not taking these books from this library…not on my watch.”

“Then turn around,” Snape snarled, “My patience is very nearly gone already, woman; don’t press me.” 

After glaring at her for a few minutes, Snape apparently won because Madam Pince sighed then snapped, “If you get _a single drop_ of ink or tea on _any_ of these books, you may as well retire before I get hold of you.  And I expect them back in a week.”

Smirking victoriously, Snape summoned a House Elf.  After instructing Rimsey to take the pile of books to his chambers, Snape rushed back to the infirmary.

 

_________________

Arriving in a whirlwind of fluttering robes and hurried steps, Snape was startled to see that Harry, Ginny, and Ron were sitting in chairs near Hermione’s bed. Entering slowly, he cast swift glares at each student. 

Ron straightened from his slumped position, “What are you doing here?”

Snape ignored the rude question and walked smoothly past Ron, cutting between his chair and the one Harry was occupying; he strode to Hermione and gazed down at her as the Weasleys and Harry watched in silence.  Snape rested the back of his hand against Hermione’s forehead for a moment before bringing it to her cheek.  His hand remained at her face and his eyes never strayed from her face as he asked, “Has Madam Pomfrey seen Her – her since you arrived?”

“She left a few minutes after we got here,” Harry replied.

“Did she tell you anything?”

“Only that it’s some rare curse and that it’s a good sign that she was breathing normally again.”

Swallowing thickly, Snape turned his hand over to hold Hermione’s face in his palm.

Harry and Ron exchanged a confused and irritated look; Ginny smiled to herself, remembering how Hermione had implied she was seeing the professor – his actions confirmed this to the Weasley.

Snape sat on the edge of Hermione’s bed, resting his hand on her still twitching one as his other remained at her face.  The two boys narrowed their eyes slightly.  When Snape’s hand lowered to hold the side of her neck, Ron leapt up, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU SICK BASTARD?  SHE’S UNCONSCIOUS AND YOU’RE JUST GONNA MOLEST HER ANYWAY? AND WITH US RIGHT HERE?”

Snape glared at the red-haired dunderhead, “Sit down. I am not _molesting_ her, you imbecile; I am checking her pulse.” He had, in fact, simply needed to feel as though he was comforting her.

“Oh,” Ron sat back down.

“I believe it is past time for you to be in your House,” Snape said evenly. 

Ron shoved himself out of the chair, “Fine.”

Harry stood, as well, and followed Ron out the door wordlessly.

Ginny remained sitting near Hermione’s bed; she fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment before clearing her throat, “She did always say there was more to you than just black robes and dungeons.  I guess she was right; you’re not heartless.  You obviously love her a lot.”

Snape’s eyes snapped to Ginny, “I beg your pardon, Miss Weasley?”

“S-sorry, sir,” the girl mumbled, “I didn’t know you were so caring. It’s clear that you care very much about her.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively, “She-she told you?”

Ginny shook her head, “No.  No sir; I’m just saying that, from this evening, I can tell that you love her…don’t you? …sir?” 

Snape returned his eyes to the unconscious witch; he took a deep breath, “Very much. Now, didn’t I tell you _all_ to go back to Gryffindor Tower?”

 Ginny stood and headed toward the door.

“Oh, and Miss Weasley,” Snape’s voice halted the girl’s steps, “Not a word.”


	24. The Hospital Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Hermione is in the Hospital Wing, Snape's Dark Mark begins to burn.

Early one evening a few days later, after summoning a few of the books Rimsey had taken to his chambers, Snape settled into a chair beside Hermione’s bed, and began to search the pages for a spell that might aid the most important part of his life’s return to consciousness.  After glancing at the girl beside him, the wizard’s eyes scanned the index, fruitlessly searching for the information he needed, setting each useless book aside, growing more frustrated with each discarded tome.

Snape snarled inwardly as he tossed aside the sixth book that had proven to be a disappointment.  He held his forehead in his hands, cursing himself for allowing Hermione to become a potential pawn in The Dark Lord’s schemes.

“What the – ?” Snape straightened as he felt his left forearm suddenly grow white-hot; surely The Dark Lord had not chosen to ignore Snape’s actions at the Malfoy’s house. 

“Poppy!” the professor called in a panic, “Poppy!”

Madam Pomfrey appeared at the door to the patients’ room, “Yes, Severus?” 

“You recall our agreement?” 

The Healer nodded, knowing that he meant her promise that, if Hermione stopped shaking, she would **_immediately_** send her corporeal Patronus to convey the message to him.

“Thank you, Poppy,” Snape spoke before standing and heading out of the hospital wing.

 

 

_________________

 

 

“You – you summoned me?”  Snape found it very ominous that he was the only one standing in the dining room before Voldemort. 

The Dark Lord eyed Snape with scrutiny and distrust before speaking, “It pleases me to see, even after the unfortunate… _incident_ , you still come when called.”

Tightening his lips, Snape used all of his resolve not to snap at the evil man; he hated being spoken of like a dog.  He cleared his throat, “And why, may I ask, is it that you wished to see me?” 

Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Fenrir Greyback appeared, each arriving in a fountain of thick, black wisps of smoke. 

“Severus, what have you done?” Lucius asked, “Is this about _that_ …girl – again?  Draco tells me you’ve always detested her.  Why would you jeopardize all we have worked for over one stupid little Mudblood?”

Voldemort watched Snape as he was questioned by his fellow Death Eater, looking for some reaction from him; when Snape merely tightened his mouth and narrowed his eyes slightly at the word _Mudblood_ , The Dark Lord sneered, “Not going to defend her honor yet again, Severus?” 

“Your name-calling poses no threat to her honor, only damages you own, Lucius,” Snape spoke silkily, impressed that his voice was even, although he felt as though his entire body was shaking, right down to his soul; he was not scared for his life, only afraid that he may be killed and never hold his student again.

Giving a dismissive sigh of disgust, Voldemort replied, “I believe it would be in your favor for you to seriously evaluate your behavior, Severus.”

Snape waited in silence for the wizard to continue.

“Manny long years have I trusted you, Severus,” Voldemort spoke slowly, menacingly, “And you have proven to be a most useful ally.  Nothing can replace the information about Dumbledore you have provided me with, but I must say that your actions a fortnight ago have given me reason to doubt you.  Because of your unwavering allegiance over the years – and _only_ because of it – I will give you an opportunity to justify your behavior, if you wish to do so.”

The professor didn’t respond.

“Oh!” Voldemort spoke as though he had just remembered something, “How is your little Mudblood doing?” He was mocking Snape.  

The three other Death Eaters in the dining room laughed condescendingly. 

“I _do_ hope she recovers from that _awful_ hex; she hasn’t woken yet, has she?  What a shame,” the evil wizard added.

Narrowing his dark eyes, Snape hissed, “She will be fine.  You haven’t won.”  He didn’t know what he was thinking, speaking so boldly to The Dark Lord, but he guessed it had a lot to do with the bushy-haired girl in the hospital wing; the thought of Hermione gave him strength.

“Severus, Severus, Severus, I am being generous; take advantage of this chance to explain yourself.” Voldemort gazed at Snape, expecting a reply – preceded by an apology. When the teacher did nothing but stare back at Him, Voldemort glanced at His other followers in disbelief at Snape’s reaction before He sneered, hissing, “ _Crucio_!”

Snape spammed, his body filled with pain as his legs stiffened, the muscles straining, becoming taut in his arms, chest, neck and legs; he fell to the floor and convulsed in agony. 

After a few minutes, Voldemort lifted the curse, “Do you know what the girl was hexed with?  I assume you’re having difficulties finding a counter-curse.  How unfortunate…”

From the cold floor, Snape glared up at Voldemort, who gave another cruel smile before breathing, “ _defaeco neam crux sano_.”

Snape convulsed again, his body overwhelmed with agony worse than just moments before; he felt the warmth of his blood soaking the sleeve of his robe and the collar of his tunic.

Snape lost track of time, only able to comprehend horrific pain and unimaginable fear for Hermione.  He knew that he would not be leaving Malfoy Manor; was going to die, and never see the student again. This realization overwhelmed him, the laughter of Lucius, Fenrir, and Bellatrix echoing somewhere in the farthest background of his awareness. 

 

 

_________________

 

 

Madam Pomfrey shuffled a stack of medical papers, straightening them by repeatedly tapping the bottom of the stack of parchment on her desk. She sighed, leaving her small office to look in on Hermione, who was the only patient currently in the infirmary. Walking to the side of the girl’s bed, the Healer brought her hand to Hermione’s forehead, glad to learn that her fever had reduced several degrees.  Madam Pomfrey took Hermione’s pulse, her fingers pressing on the vein in the girl’s wrist.  Her pulse was finally not fluttering and was even and much stronger than an hour ago. Setting Hermione’s hand gently back on the cot, Madam Pomfrey observed her for a moment; Hermione’s hand wasn’t twitching.  The woman stepped back a few paces and watched Hermione’s form; she was not shaking. Her hands were resting idly at her sides, her feet were no longer twitching violently, and her shoulders were perfectly still.  Madam Pomfrey sighed in relief, then lifted her wand, “Expect –” 

The door to the hospital wing burst open; Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom fell in clumsily, each bearing fiery red welts large enough to name, green pustules forming on very wound.  Neville was crying, Luna attempting to console him, while Harry and Ron just looked royally pissed off.

“What in the world?” Madam Pomfrey rushed over. 

“It – It’s my fault, ma’am,” Neville sniffled before he began sobbing, “Ipuhtwineeondropsoblud –in-insteadoftwelf.  I thought it – Ithoughtiwastwineeondropsnotwelf. Ididnmeanta…Ididnmenta…” 

“What he’s _saying_ , Madam Pomfrey,” Harry interpreted, “Is that he put twenty-one drops of pygmy blood, instead of twelve, like the instructions said.  In Potions, you see.  Slughorn has – well, his handwriting isn’t the easiest to read.”

“What in heaven’s name were you brewing?”

“A cure for broom-sickness,” Harry said.

“Pretty sure I’d rather be broom-sick,” Ron grumbled. 

Pursing her lips, the Healer instructed, “Yes, yes, well, you all just sit down and I’ll give you an ointment; you’ll be you out of here in five minutes.”

Madam Pomfrey hurried off to her potions stock, rummaging through it for several minutes before she found what she was looking for.  She returned to her new patients and presented them with the small jar, saying, “Use it liberally; the entire boil must be completely covered.” 

Luna dipped her fingers into the ointment, scooping out a heap of the thick, grey paste and applying it to her wounds while humming a cheerful song. Neville peered skeptically into the tub Luna had passed to him, made a face, then followed Luna’s example before handing the jar to Ron, who looked at the contents and gave a theatrical heave, “Bleuch!  This smells like old socks and rotten milk!”

Harry leaned slightly over toward his friend and sniffed, “Not that different from your usual cologne.”

“Sod off, Harry,” Ron retorted before plunging his fingers into the ointment, defiantly glaring at his friend. 

Harry applied the medicine to his own injuries, gave the jar back to the Healer, and watched as the red lumps on Luna’s arms faded and deflate as she looked dreamily around the hospital wing.  Her wide, silvery grey-blue eyes fell on Hermione, “Harry, what’s Hermione doing here? Is something the matter with her?" 

“Oh, no,” Ron said sarcastically, “She just fancies taking naps in the hospital wing.”

“Hmm. Interesting.  I wonder if the beds are comfortable.” 

“She’s not taking a nap, you dotty twit; she’s been hexed,” Ron snapped.

Luna looked startled briefly, then as though she might cry at the sharp insult, so Harry decided to attempt to distract her, “She’s okay, though, Madam Pomfrey says so.”

“What do I say?” the Healer had returned.

“That she’ll be okay, Hermione.”

Madam Pomfrey nearly dropped the folder she was holding; she had not yet sent a message to Severus that Hermione would wake soon.  Huffing in frustration with herself, the woman shooed the four students out of the hospital wing, “Out!  Out!  You’re fine. Go back to class.”

When they had left, Madam Pomfrey sighed in exasperation before creating her Patronus message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relatively short chapter. I've had a lot going on and no time to write recently. I apologize.


	25. Where Your Loyalties Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Hermione's impending wake from her coma, Snape desperately wants to be with her. Will he return to Hogwarts? Will he finally be reunited with his love?

Excruciating pain tore through every fiber of Snape’s body – his arms felt as though they were being shredded with razor blades, his legs were being simultaneously boiled and torn violently from his body, his neck was being repeatedly broken, his head jerking in different unnatural angles, and he was being suffocated by grief, for he would never again see Hermione Granger; there was an unimaginable weight on his chest, slowly collapsing his lungs, cracking his ribs, splinters piercing his heart in slow motion.  Had he been able to draw enough breath, he would have cried out in agony, but something extraordinarily heavy was on his chest, hovering over him; he could feel it staring at him, it’s loud breaths hot on his face… _staring? taking breaths?_ Snape’s eyes snapped open to see that he was, in fact, being crushed by a three-ton elephant made of silver wisps. Snape nearly laughed, remembering that Madam Pomfrey’s Patronus was an elephant, but the meaning of its arrival was anything but humorous.

“Alright, alright, can you let me breathe?” Snape coughed feebly. The elephant looked startled, then embarrassed as it got off of the professor.

The Death Eaters stared blankly at the Elephant Patronus and Snape as the two apparently communicated briefly, although much too quietly to be overheard.

Snape nodded solemnly, patted the elephant’s trunk, and then turned to face the Death Eaters as Madam Pomfrey’s Patronus faded away.  Snape cleared his throat, “Albus Dumbledore is alive.”

“ ** _What?_** _That’s not possible_ ,” Voldemort hissed angrily.

“I’m afraid it is, My Lord,” Snape said.

“But _how_?”

Taking a breath to keep his voice from shaking, Snape replied, “Polyjuice Potion. It seems Harry Potter did not accompany the Headmaster to the Cliffs of Moher to retrieve the locket. Dumbledore was impersonating Mister Potter.  Albus Dumbledore is still very much alive.  I apologize, My Lord; I will not fail you again, I swear it.”

“I do not give second chances, Severus,” Voldemort sneered, “This will be your only chance to redeem yourself.  Go. Take care of this.”

Snape could have jumped for joy or collapsed into sobs of happiness, but he had time for neither; instead, he rushed out of the house and hurried to the end of the walkway before Disapparating.

The moment his feet touched the ground outside the Hogwarts gate, Snape sprinted toward the Hospital Wing, earning him several stares and baffled looks from students.

Rushing across the stone path, Snape didn’t stop to open the door to the infirmary; instead, he tore through it fiercely, flinging it open violently, “Poppy? Poppy, is she awake yet?” he asked as he rushed inside.  He stopped abruptly when he saw a very old man with a long beard and blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.  Approaching slowly, Snape eyed the man, “It can’t –”

“Oh, but it can, my dear Severus,” Dumbledore spoke, “I have, after all, been called _the greatest wizard of the age_ …”

“That was once,” Snape replied, “And the wizard who said it was drunk.”

“And The Daily Prophet, as well as Witch Weekly.”

Snape grumbled.

“Is it my fault that Rita Skeeter happened to be in the room when it was said?” 

Growling in exasperation, Snape shook his head, deciding that he had more important matters to see to than Dumbledore’s fame.

“She’s not awake yet, Severus, but will be soon,” the headmaster said.

His dark eyes flicked to Dumbledore, “What?” 

“Miss Granger, she’s not yet awake…that is why you’re here, isn’t it, to be at her side when she does?”

Snape’s face was unreadable; he simply stared at Dumbledore. 

Chuckling, Dumbledore stood, placed his hand on Snape’s shoulder, and began walking toward Hermione’s little sectioned area.  When the pair reached Hermione’s bedside, Dumbledore conjured two chairs and sat in one, motioning for Snape to take the other.

Once they had both sat down, Dumbledore gave a sly, knowing smile, “It seems my suggestion of dancing with Miss Granger at the Celebration at the start of the year is to blame for her current situation; it inadvertently made her a target. I accept the fault for your tumultuous year.”

“Fault?” Snape questioned, “Fault?  There is no fault for the year.  The credit, that you can take.  Her current state is my fault, and my fault alone, Albus, but the year, no, the year was an enjoyable one, the best I’d ever had.” 

Dumbledore gave a slight smile and a soft sigh, “Severus, her current situation is not your fault; it is no one’s fault but Voldemort’s, who, I assume was not pleased to hear that I am still alive.” 

“Not at all,” Snape agreed, “How did you manage to so convincingly fake your death?”

“I had help,” Albus replied, “Namely from Horace Slughorn…and Sirius Black.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dumbledore chuckled, “My, Severus, I daresay I’ve never seen you look so confused. On the night Harry and I supposedly went to get the locket, it was really myself as Harry, and Sirius Black as me.”

“Black is dead,” Snape said flatly, “He died last year.”

“No, Severus, Sirius fell through the veil in The Department of Mysteries. Much like Marvolo Gaunt’s ring, the veil is more of a timestamp for death than an actual cause. Each gives only a year to those who face them.  Sirius would have died a week following the Astronomy Tower, but he chose to give up those seven days to help us destroy Voldemort.  I will pass over the summer break.”

“And how did Slughorn help you?”

“He wanted a vacation; I’ve been literally in his skin the last few weeks. He arranged his lessons and potions for me, but he’s a few day later than we planned, and I do believe I caused an accident earlier in the week; I cannot seem to enchant the chalk not to shake as it writes on the blackboard.”

 

  

_________________

 

 

Dumbledore had left not long after his conversation with Snape, who was now sitting alone beside Hermione’s bed, watching her anxiously.

Madam Pomfrey stepped to the dark-haired professor, “It’s closing in on an hour, isn’t it?”

Snape nodded and rubbed his forehead, “By the way, Poppy, was it really necessary to have your Patronus stand on top of me?  It’s an elephant.  An elephant, Poppy, an _elephant_.”

“Sorry, dear, I rarely use a corporeal Patronus, I forget how realistic they can be.” 

Hermione stirred slightly.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” the Healer said, dismissing herself.

Snape moved to sit on the edge of Hermione’s bed, watching her face in anticipation. She stirred again, her arms stretching at her sides.  The girl twisted subtly as her eyelids fluttered.  Snape took hold of her hand, swallowing hard.  Slowly, very slowly, Hermione’s eyes opened; Snape sighed as soon as he saw her chocolate eyes looking up at him.

“Did you enjoy your nap?”

Hermione rubbed her eyes, “What happened?”  She sat up slowly, Snape helping with a hand between her shoulder blades. As soon as she was upright, the professor embraced her tightly, squeezing her against himself before kissing her desperately.

The girl gave a weak but warm smile, “What was that for?  Wait…am I in the Hospital Wing?  Why am I in the Hospital Wing?” 

Sighing, Snape explained, “Because I let you become involved.  I should never have put you in that situation. You were captured…taken hostage because…because The Dark Lord wanted to use you to get information from me.”

Hermione frowned at him as her stomach rumbled loudly, “What time is it?” 

“It’s around seven o’clock, but, Hermione, you’ve been in here for nearly a month.” Snape frowned for a brief moment before he conjured a large sandwich and crisps for Hermione.

Hermione ate enthusiastically for a moment before slowing down, “A month?  No, no way.”

“Yes, I’m sorry to say so, but it’s been almost a month.” 

After swallowing a bite of sandwich, Hermione asked, “So, what happened?”

Snape recounted what had occurred, for it seemed her memory of events was inaccessible. Hermione listened in silence, nodding and devouring her food until he had finished. 

“Thank you, Severus,” she said quietly, “Thank you so much.”

Swallowing thickly, Snape spoke again, “Hermione, I never wanted this to happen. My past will always be my past, and it will follow me wherever I go.  Anyone close to me is likely to be affected by my mistakes; I’ve been evading it for so long, but this has shown me I can never escape it, and I believe I must face it alone.  To protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting!  Severus, I don’t need you to protect me; I just need you,” Hermione said. 

Snape smiled faintly and stood to unwrap his robes from under his leg.

“Where are you going?”

He sat back down on the edge of her bed, shaking his head in amusement and exasperation, smiling to himself. 

“What’s so funny?”

Gently taking her hand, Snape said, “Would you believe that I was able to stand up to The Dark Lord because of you?”

“That’s preposterous,” Hermione said, but when she saw her professor’s adoration for her and his sincerity, she asked, “What do you mean?” 

Snape looked at his hands for a moment before replying, “For the past several months, He’s asked me the same question, told me I needed to decide where my loyalties are.  ‘ _Severus, have you decided where your loyalties lie?’_ ” 

“What did you say?” 

Snape turned his hand over to reveal that he was holding an emerald and diamond encrusted ring, “With you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this! An extra big thank you to those of you who started reading in the beginning and stuck with me!
> 
>  
> 
> I'm considering writing a sequel, since this story seemed to be pretty well-received, but I'm not certain. I'd love opinions on whether or not I should do a sequel. PLEASE TELL ME.
> 
> DO YOU WANT A SEQUEL? YES OR NO?


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